


Realms of the Dark Matrons

by Vampcoffee



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anal Sex, Blood, Cock Worship, Daedra Worship, Dark Magic, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fantasy, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gods, Gore, Magic, Porn Starts In Chapter Two, Porn With Plot, Religion, Sex, Spells & Enchantments, Swords & Sorcery, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Torture, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8199599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampcoffee/pseuds/Vampcoffee
Summary: After over one hundred years of silence, Azura has spoken once again to one of her followers, a Dunmer woman named Yvandri. To be contacted in this way after an era of absence is a phenomenon that cannot be ignored. Yvandri eagerly answers this call and thus journeys through several planes of Oblivion to commune with Azura, Mephala, and Boethia; a trio now known as the Reclamations.





	1. A Sign Among Stars

A sprawling ridge of ice-worn mountains stood on the north-east corner of Skyrim. Winterhold rested further north; the mage's college being the only structure of significance among the ruins. Southward, at the foot of these mountains, stood an ancient nordic city, a district once ruled by Ysgramor himself...

Snow fell on Windhelm, as it often did. The city was fortified with a bridge and a wall made of thick, frost-laden stone. A castle loomed over the northern end of the city, the Palace of Kings. In contrast to this dominating landmark, the docks laid outside the wall on the eastern edge of Windhelm. The sailors and dock workers were a mixture of Nords from the city and Argonians who were not allowed inside. 

Among them, a Dark Elf walked dockside. She wore hardened leather armor with an expert mage robe which served as a coat against the cold of the north. A polished, blueish-green sword of glass hung at her side and the hood of her robe concealed her pointed ears and the stark, angular planes of her elven face. However, the bloody red smolder of her hellish eyes still pierced like coals from among the grays and blacks of her shadowed countenance. This was no common dockworker or shipmate.

Her name was Yvandri and she was a Dunmer just over two centuries old. She was still relatively young compared to other Dunmer and Altmer, despite having already lived well over two human lifetimes. She had both formed and broken many allegiances in her years. Thus she could lay claim to many titles. Thief. Adventurer. Wizard. Murderer. Refugee. Mercenary. Priestess... Some of these labels still applied while others most certainly did not. 

In this stage of her life, Yvandri decided the most efficient description of her skills and her disposition was 'spellsword'. Not to be confused with 'sellsword' though she was not above fighting someone else's battles in exchange for coin. Such was the nature of an adventurer without a home in a land torn by war. There were many a cause and quest to which the people of Skyrim devoted themselves. Without a purpose of your own, one was certain to be swept up into the endeavors of another.

This had been true of Yvandri ever since she left the Shrine of Azura over one hundred years ago. She and her mother were among those who were warned of the imminent eruption of Red Mountain by Azura, Daedric Prince of Twilight. They fled their home of Vvardenfell and, upon arriving in Skyrim, built an immense statue of Azura in honor and gratitude for the gift of foresight that surely saved their lives. Though, in the decades that followed, Azura's influence waned considerably. Her visions of the future became less frequent and more selective over time until only one or two followers of the shrine received her influence consistently.

Like many others, Yvandri ceased to feel the guidance of Azura and eventually moved on from the shrine to seek the next phase of her life in this foreign land. After spending the majority of a century traveling and adventuring throughout Skyrim, Yvandri had all but forgotten Azura. That is, until three days ago when she saw her first vision of twilight in many, many decades. Despite years of silence, Azura's silvery voice was unmistakable. It woke Yvandri from a deep sleep and spoke of the Dragonborn, a Black Book, and a Telvanni wizard-lord. A vision flooded her mind of an island north-east of Skyrim, Solstheim. This is what brought Yvandri to the Windhelm docks; she needed a ship with which to travel.

Yvandri walked the length of the snow-brushed dock. Argonians worked leather, wood, and steel to her left, and Nords tended to the masts and rigs of their ships on her right. She felt the occasional gaze land on her briefly; she could sense the suspicion they harbored. Finally Yvandri came to the ship she desired, the Coastbound. A trio of Nords unloaded and organized cargo aboard the vessel as she approached.

“Hark,” Yvandri called.

The hardy, white men looked up from their work then looked at each other before the nearest Nord walked to the rail of the ship to speak with her.

“We're busy, elf,” he grunted. “What do you want?”

Yvandri's eyes sharpened. “Where is your captain?”

“No captain 'round here,” the Nord said. “Everyone on the docks works for a living.”

“Very well,” Yvandri said. “Who decides when and where this ship sets sail?”

“Strom,” he said. “He's in the city right now.”

Yvandri watched the Nord walk away to resume his labors about the ship. She stepped across the dock to lean against a nearby post, expecting this “Strom” to be returning to his ship shortly. It was to be expected that she would find a less-than-warm reception from the Nords of Windhelm. The city and its segregated Gray Quarter held widespread infamy among Dark Elves. A population of Dunmer relegated to live in a lesser district of the city; Yvandri counted herself a fortunate to have never needed to live in such conditions like others of her race. A further blessing was that these Nords in particular seemed mildly inconvenienced by her gray skin instead of outright offended.

The sound of snow crunching on the dock nearby brought Yvandri out of her pondering. The sound was close and she looked to see yet another Nord approaching, gray hair, worn merchant's clothes, a barrel under his arm. He walked from the main pier to the offshoot leading to the Coastbound then stopped in front of Yvandri.

“Are you here for sail?” he asked.

“I am,” Yvandri said. “I seek passage to Solstheim.”

His aged eyes scanned her. “What is your offer?”

“Seven hundred septims.”

The man grinned. “Stromvald Wakeshore,” he introduced. “I hold charge of the Coastbound.” He turned toward the ladder leading to the ship and gestured for her to follow. “Come aboard, we sail within the hour.”

Yvandri boarded the ship and looked around to see an abundance of supplies and materials. There was a plethora of weapons and armor, however it was all mundane. Fur, hide, iron, steel. Her own enchanted armor and robe were surely both more effective and valuable. Though, there was food among the provisions of the cargo and Yvandri hadn't eaten much in the last day or two. Perhaps she would eat when she reached the island.

Stromvald set the barrel on the deck. “We ferry your kind between Windhelm and Raven Rock with some frequency,” he said while he walked to the helm. “I take it you don't live here or there?”

“No, I don't,” Yvandri said. She passed a purse of gold coins as he passed. “I'm here from Riften.” That was the last city she spent a significant time in, though only for a month or so. She had traveled from Falkreath and Morthal before that.

“Riften, eh?” Stromvald laughed. “You're not a thief are you?”

Yvandri looked away. “Not today.”

“Alright,” Stromvald said. “Well, don't mind if I count your coin anyway.”

“I expected as much.”

~ ~ ~

Yvandri sat cross legged on the deck of the Coastbound, meditating in a manner she had not done in quite some time. Azura had spoken to her and she figured she should attempt offering a response. Her mental vision swam with stars and shadows but, for the moment, she found no further quarter with the Queen of the Night Sky. Yvandri had not attempted to commune with the Twilight since leaving the Shrine of Azura; she was out of practice.

She exited her trance and the starry sky faded from her mind as she opened her eyes. She saw the bright daylight of noon when she did; another possible reason why Azura did not respond. Her gaze met with one of the Nord helmsmen, who only sneered and walked off. Yvandri glanced around the deck before standing to her feet. She looked to find Stromvald at the helm and Solstheim close ahead. A gray haze loomed over the Dunmer-populated island and the surrounding area, turning the sky brownish-orange. 

Ash. The air looked and smelled of ash. Fine carbon particles hung on the wind, carrying the sharp odor of smoke and fire.  
Yvandri had never directly experienced the fallout of Red Mountain, but she was somehow familiar with its energy. In fact, all Dunmer were affected in this way. This was no empty, dead ash. Rather, this ash yet burned with the blaze of that infamous volcanic disaster.

The Coastbound pulled into the port of Raven Rock and the Nord shipmates began tying the ship to the pier. Stromvald nodded to Yvandri then headed below deck; this was where they parted ways. She walked to leave the ship while a man, a Dark Elf like herself, approached from the city walls. Yvandri had barely stepped onto the dock when he began speaking to her.

“Another traveler from Skyrim, I assume?” he asked. “Adril Arano, Councilor's aid.” He seemed to be some sort of 'gatekeeper' or the like. “You will be under watch during your time in Raven Rock, outlander.” Apparently they were not very fond of outside visitors, even other Dunmer.

Yvandri lowered the pale, green hood of her cloak. “I believe you are mistaken,” she said after revealing her face.

The official scanned her features. “I see that you look like us,” he said. “However, are you of one of the Houses?”

“No.”

“Then you _are_ an outlander,” the elf decided, political standing ranking higher than racial bonds. “As such, a word of advice,” Adril went on. “The Redoran guard have doubled their efforts in response to recent traitorous activity.” He gestured to the numerous armored soldiers that lined the dock and the stone wall leading into Raven Rock. “Do not interfere with their affairs; you will regret doing so.”

Yvandri looked at the guards; each wore heavy armor, a sword and shield, and they were likely Dunmer as well. “I won't be here long,” Yvandri said as she eyed them. She wondered how many she could take out if she ever needed to. “I am looking for a Telvanni wizard-lord,” she said to the official. Her guess was ten at least. Possibly a bit ambitious.

“You must mean Neloth,” the official said. “He lives in Tel Mithryn, towards the east, beyond the old Imperial fort.” Adril pointed in the direction he spoke of. “What business do you have with that madman?”

Yvandri glared and stepped passed the official. “That's between him and I, isn't it?”

“Neloth is notorious in Raven Rock for all the wrong reasons,” Adril said, speaking to Yvandri's back at this point. “We are not trusting of him and, should you deal with him often, you will be treated similarly.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Yvandri said while she walked away, unfazed.

~ ~ ~

As she said, she did not spend much time in Raven Rock, just enough to eat and rest before moving on a few hours later. The town's architecture was unique with it's domed, concentric homes and banners unlike any she had seen in Skyrim. Though, beyond the visual trappings it was much like the nondescript Nord villages she had crossed innumerable times. Smithing and mining were their main functions with crops and livestock being a close second. Yvandri had greater pursuits in mind.

She traversed the sprawling, soot-black ashfields of Solstheim and kept a watchful eye on the foreign landscape. When she reached the Imperial fort, the ash came alive in the shape of a deformed humanoid beast. These “ash spawn” attacked with fiery ash blasts and weapons made of burned sand. Shocking at first, but nothing Yvandri could not handle, given her magical talents and natural affinity for fire. A slash of her frost-enchanted glass sword caused the last of these fiends to shatter and then dissolve back into the sandy ash from whence it came.

Beyond the ashen fort, Yvandri saw a collection of tall mushroom towers standing against the yellowish-brown sky. Like much of the Dunmer culture and history, she had read of structures like this but never seen them in person. Surely this was the “Tel Mithryn” that the Councilor's aid spoke of. The wizard-lord named Neloth lived here and Azura had demanded that Yvandri speak to him. With her goal in sight, Yvandri quickened her pace. After another few moments of walking, she reached the center of the fungal structures. She looked around to take in the sight then looked up at the tallest of the towers, a mushroom so tall it appeared to spear the sky.

“Impressive isn't it?” Yvandri heard. She turned to see a male Dunmer wearing orange-gold mage robes. A question was on her face, one the stranger answered with, “Newcomers always stare like that.”

Yvandri folded her arms. “It is... interesting,” she admitted.

“I'll say,” the mage gushed. “I don't know how he did it, but maybe I'll learn someday.”

“You mean Neloth?” Yvandri assumed.

“Yes, of course,” the other elf replied. “Though, I would suggest an honorific if you intend to speak with him. Lord, Master, Great Wizard, any such would suffice,” he said. He offered his hand. “You may simply call me Talvas, I apprentice under Master Neloth.”

Yvandri ignored the gesture. “Where is your master now?” she demanded.

Talvas retracted his hand. “In the main tower here,” he said, nodding to the largest of the towers. “A warning, he's not all that fond of visitors, especially unannounced,” Talvas informed. “May I ask what brings you here?”

“Azura.” 

The elven mage recoiled. “You don't mean...” he began, before seeing Yvandri's face. “Mother of Roses? Twilight Whisperer?” he asked, evoking epithets of the Daedric Prince of Dusk and Dawn.“Oh, I'm sure he will find this most fascinating,” Talvas said. “This way, please.”

Talvas jogged up the winding, trench-like pathway to the entrance and Yvandri followed at her own, deliberate pace. Inside she found a somewhat cramped shaft, six feet across at most, that extended directly upwards into the cap of the mushroom building. Talvas made a passing comment about the lifting panel before he stepped onto the surface. Something about spread your arms and lean back. The panel lit with magic and a shocking blue glow painted everything in sight as Talvas floated on the rising energy and ascended. Yvandri watched him land on the upper level of the tower before stepping onto the panel herself. She floated up at a dizzying speed until she reached the height of the second floor and proceeded to stumble upon exiting the lifting magic. 

Once on the second floor of the tower Yvandri saw the master of Tel Mithryn was a Dark Elf as well, in fact, she started to grasp that most people on Solstheim would be. He was bald and he wore robes of red and gold with a spiral blue pattern on the chest of the clothing. He looked at Yvandri briefly then returned to what he was doing, a collection of soul gems and scrolls on the table before him. “Come to see a master wizard work marvels of magecraft?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” Yvandri said. She walked over to him. “Are you Neloth?”

“That's Wizard-Lord Neloth of House Telvanni to you.”

Yvandri glared then continued. “I was sent by Azura to see you.”

Neloth stood and turned to Yvandri. “Well then, you've seen me now, haven't you?” he sassed with a shrug.

Yvandri took a steadying breath to stave off her temper. “Azura sent me a vision of something called a 'black book',” she explained further. “She said you would know where it is.”

“Something called a 'black book'?” the wizard-lord repeated. “You mean _the_ Black Book, of which there are many editions, all curated, collected, and corrupted by one Hermaeus Mora?”

Yvandri's skin crawled. She had heard in passing of Hermaeus Mora, Daedric Lord of Forbidden Knowledge, Sower of Fates, Hoarder of Secrets. His methods were vile at best. “That sounds about right,” Yvandri said. “It would be foolish to not expect trials to follow Azura's insight.”

“Perhaps even more foolish to follow insight that deals with Hermaeus Mora...” Neloth said rhetorically. He walked over to a bookshelf elsewhere in his laboratory, a small but thoroughly stocked workspace with shelves and tables lined with all manner of potions, staffs, enchanting gear and so on. “She didn't bother to lead you directly to the Book?” Neloth asked, finding it odd that a Daedra's influence would be so limited. “Why even would Azura speak to you at all?”

“I was once a follower of Azura at her shrine in Skyrim,” Yvandri said. “She has been silent for over a hundred years; what little I received is better than nothing.”

“Hmm...” Neloth muttered, considering something. He thumbed through a couple of notes sitting in the bookshelf but it was clear his mind was on something else. Finally, with a tilt of the head he decided on whatever he was debating. “There is another Black Book I have heard of; Realms of the Dark Matrons,” Neloth revealed. He returned to the table he had been working at earlier. “Neither the Dragonborn nor myself would have much use for this particular edition of the Book. Although, it would be very useful to those interested in furthering the Reclamations.”

“What are the Reclamations?” Yvandri asked.

“The latest phase in the ever-changing religious understandings of our people,” Neloth explained. “It disregards the Tribunal and holds Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala as entities to be worshiped. According to the Reclamations, the cultivators of the Dunmer have become gods in their own right,” Neloth said before he gave Yvandri a quizzical look. “You are a Dark Elf, correct?” he asked, despite the answer being obvious. “How have you not heard of this?”

Yvandri sighed. “I've been away from Morrowind for most of my life.”

“Ah, I see. That explains a lot, actually,” Neloth said, nodding slowly. “No matter, it's honestly of very little consequence. Our Daedric matrons are all well and fine but I would rather pursue more... practical endeavors.”

“What about the Black Book?” Yvandri asked, returning to the subject.

“Oh, right,” Neloth said, sidetracked. “My scouts have relayed knowledge of an old burial chamber, Deepdrake Hall,” he said. “It is located in the mountains north of Raven Rock; the entrance was exposed about a week ago after a recent ashstorm,” he said. “That is where you will find your Black Book."

“Thank you,” Yvandri said. “Azura was good to lead me here.”

“Yes, yes, be on your way, then,” Neloth dismissed. “Do be mindful when dealing with Hermaeus Mora. After all, you are no Dragonborn.”

Yvandri smirked at the master wizard's doubt of her then turned to exit the tower.

Neloth was right that she was not a mythical hero like the Dragonborn or the Nerevarine. He was also just to urge caution when crossing paths with Hermaeus Mora, a particularly revolting Daedric Lord. However, Azura's will beckoned strong and, beyond that, Yvandri was highly curious about what would come of this undertaking. She would not be swayed by a bit of ridicule or warning.


	2. Boneless Limbs & Prying Orbs

After speaking with Neloth in his mushroom tower, Yvandri spent the next several hours walking on foot to reach Deepdrake Hall. She had nearly traveled across the entirety of Solstheim before coming up from a field of rolling hills and blackened sand. There she saw the barrow Neloth had spoken of, the peak of a burial chamber only barely standing out from the rest of the landscape. An expanse of ash surrounded the stone structure and much of it remained buried beneath dark powder. 

Yvandri noticed a few figures, Dark Elves, gathered at the entrance of the chamber. Two of them watched while a third individual knelt in front of the door. As she approached, she overheard them talking among themselves.

“I thought you could pick locks, what's the problem?”

“I've looked up and down; there is no lock.”

“How do we get in, then?”

Yvandri was within ten feet of the other Dunmer when one of them, a female, turned around after hearing the shifting sand of her approach. Their reddish eyes clashed in the afternoon light.

“Keep walking, outlander,” the female elf said, glaring.

The two others, both males, turned to see who their cohort spoke to. The three all wore a mismatch of bone and shell-plate armor with old scars and dark red warpaint marking their gray skin. Reavers. Similar to the all-too-common bandits in Skyrim that would rob and/or kill any passing traveler.

Yvandri placed a hand on her hip. “Having trouble with the door?”

“Like the girl said, keep walking,” one of the male Reavers growled. “This hall, and everything in it, is ours.”

“Not if you can't get in,” Yvandri said with a shrug.

“Think you're funny?” the lead Reaver asked. “Come over and try it yourself, then.”

Yvandri drew her glass sword. “I will,” she said. “Once you're out of my way.”

“You picked a bad day to wander the ashes...” the Reaver lord growled. He pulled a heavy, two-hand sword from over his shoulder and the other two Reavers joined him in drawing their weapons and marching toward Yvandri. She took a step backwards and charged frost magic in her free hand. Before the Reaver Lord could attack, Yvandri launched a spear of icy energy into his chest. The cold froze his core and chilled his movement, affording Yvandri the chance to avoid the swung of his immense weapon.

According to the College of Winterhold, Yvandri ranked as an Expert in her knowledge of Destruction magic and an Adept in a few other schools. As such, she could utilize either fire, frost, or shock to undo her enemies. Fire had the highest lethality of the three elements and was often her usual choice for combat. However, given that she faced Dark Elves such as herself, fire would not have it's typical potency. She chose frost instead, as these Reavers were warriors as opposed to mages and the cold would dampen their physical stamina, leaving them all the more vulnerable.

“Die, outlander!”

She returned with a swipe of her own enchanted blade. Her sword cut into the Reaver's face and another surge of frost damage ravaged his body. The Reaver dropped his sword and fell backward, crippled from the ice that tore his form. Yvandri put out her hand and fashioned a magic ward in time to deflect an arrow fired by the female Reaver. However, defending herself from that attack left her flank exposed to the third enemy. 

He swung and his axe met her casting arm, causing the ward to fizzle and a jagged wound to form just below her shoulder. Yvandri cried out and counterattacked, swiping low at her foe's leg then following with a high slash. The Reaver blocked the second blow with his shield but the magic of her blade still seeped through, sending a shock of cold through his bones. Yvandri backpedaled from her foe's defensive stance and fired another piercing javelin of ice magic. The glacial spear cut through his physical protection to inflict critical magic damage, causing all life to fall from his body.

“Molag Bal curse you!”

The female Reaver, the last one standing, loosed a second arrow and Yvandri heard it's faint whistle before she could react. It stabbed about an inch into her rib cage; if not for her armor it would have landed much deeper. Yvandri strained to raise her off hand and manifest the magical ward to protect herself. 

She stumbled forward towards the Reaver, her warping, rippling shield intercepting a third and fourth shot from her enemy's bow. As Yvandri fought on, the arrowhead in her side twisted and cut her with each motion. Yvandri ground her teeth and took another step towards the Reaver then thrust with her sword. Her blade met her enemy's hand and coldness spilled away from the weapon, up into her arm and chest. The Reaver dropped her bow and clutched her frigid arm until Yvandri jabbed again and the point of her sword plunged into her foe's chest.

Yvandri withdrew her glass sword from the Reaver, who proceeded to fall frozen and dead. The spellsword sheathed her weapon and carefully walked over to the carved stone of the burial hall. Yvandri leaned against the wall and gripped the shaft of the arrow embedded in her ribs. Her hand became wet with blood on contact. She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She tore out the arrow.

Yvandri's eyes shot open and she fell to her knees. Blood dripped from the wound in her side and her breath caught in her chest. She charged a restoration spell in her hand then pressed the golden light against her injuries. After mending her side and her arm, she stood and finally turned to inspect the door. She traced her hand along the carved surface in an attempt to decipher the images. It only took a few moments to recognize the symbols carved into the stones; they were signs she had studied while at the College. Entry required the simultaneous application of fire and ice to either side of the doors. And so she did go on to cast a jet of flame from her left hand and a gust of frost from her right. The energies impacted the door and charged the entrance with power until reaching the threshold to open the lock. The mechanism clicked and the doors drifted apart.

Yvandri approached and pulled one of the metal doors open. She walked inside and the heavy door fell closed behind her. Once within Deepdrake Hall, Yvandri only found one room as opposed to the dungeon-like burial chamber that Neloth described. Something like the Nordic ruins from the Dragon Cult era is what she had imagined. However, this is what she found, a small stone enclosure with a pedestal at the center and a pair of torches on the back wall. A book rested on the pedestal; a Black Book. Yvandri stepped forward and scanned the book, torn and leathery, with a fiendish creature on the cover and tattered pages. It bled with vile, sinister power. It seethed with a wretched and horrible hunger.

This was the book that Yvandri had been searching for; the goal that Azura had ended a century of silence to pursue...

Black Book: Realms of the Dark Matrons.

Just the title made Yvandri wonder. Would this book reveal the secrets of the planes governed by Azura, Mephala, and Boethia? Yvandri was unsure. However, one thing was certain; Azura surely intended for her to read this book. It only made sense; why else would the Twilight Whisperer send her questing across this gods-forsaken island? 

Following her truest convictions, Yvandri opened the book.

The daedric runes spun and swirled with the pages like inky illusions and Yvandri started to feel disoriented. The text crawled out of the tome and reached toward Yvandri and then started to glow and shift into tentacles that wrapped around her neck and chest. Yvandri felt the coiling limbs pull her towards the book and the world blurred into utter blackness. She was dragged out of the earthly realm of Mundus and sucked into the empty void that loomed between worlds...

~ ~ ~

“So, another seeker of knowledge enters my realm.”

From darkness Yvandri found herself laying face-down on a floor made of dusty, torn pages. She tried to move but her limbs, her whole body, felt sluggish. She struggled up to all fours as her vision cleared and the stench of her new surroundings reached her, smelling of old wood and toxic swampland.

“This is Apocrypha, where all knowledge is hoarded.”

The voice continued and Yvandri could hear it clearer this time as her senses returned. It was thick, heavy, and slow. It was all around her; it was in her head. Yvandri sat up on her knees and looked around to find a warped, distorted library stretching out in every direction, shelves and books stacking unnaturally into infinity. Beyond these halls and spires, comprised of endless books, an acid green sky loomed in the distance. Just witnessing this cursed realm of secrets caused her mind to swim with knowledge that was not her own.

“Perhaps you will prove clever enough to uncover the secrets hidden here. If so, welcome.”

Yvandri finally stood to her feet after getting her wits about her. She looked up to find a dark portal overhead from within which, a ghastly outpouring of blinking eyes and writhing tentacles spilled forth. An enormous, central eye stood at the core of this ungodly sight, seeming to not be looking at Yvandri, but rather, into her. This was, without a doubt, the entity known as Hermaeus Mora, Knower of the Unknown.

“Perhaps you are a fool or a coward. If so, you are in peril. Read your book again and escape before Apocrypha claims you forever.”

His guttural voice seemed, almost 'throaty' though this being had no throat or even mouth for that matter. Before Yvandri could further contemplate Hermaeus Mora's physicality, or lack thereof, the Daedric Lord vanished, dissolving in a shroud of horrid blackness. In his absence, Yvandri saw more black portals within the blistering green sky of Apocrypha. Massive tentacle appendages hung from these holes in the veil above and Yvandri's skin crawled. What kind of place was this?

No matter. Adventurers, scholars, heroes and the like who traveled to the various planes of Oblivion did not have the greatest record of finding what they originally sought or returning from the realms at all. Yvandri hoped to be an exception to this trend. She looked around and saw several branching paths leading deeper into the twists and turns of this plane.

Books and scrolls drifted eerily around her, carried by a force that Yvandri could not sense. They simply floated, defying gravity as they circled the spires and arches of the structures that dotted the landscape. This landscape warped and winded as Yvandri walked further. Some walls had shelves stacked with books while other walls were made of books. These tomes all looked the same; black leather covers and torn pages. Yvandri didn't dare attempt to read any of these, she had already gone as deep into Hermaeus Mora's realm as she needed to for the moment. Getting sidetracked could spell an eternity of wandering.

She kept walking until she exited the maze-like halls of the library to find herself on a platform leading to a crisscrossing network of bridges. Below these bridges was a sea of greenish-black goo, churning with tentacles that thrashed within. Further ahead on the platform was a pool of this same black liquid. Yvandri approached, intending to walk around the oily pool and travel the bridges beyond. However, the pool virtually erupted with a fountain of black slime.

Yvandri raised a hand to protect her face from the rain of ooze that resulted while the rest of her body was splattered from the spray. The explosion was accompanied by a coarse, bestial growling and, when the oily slime cleared, a giant humanoid, reptilian creature stood in the pool, dripping with the black liquid it had been lurking within. Yvandri drew her sword and charged fire in her other hand. She ran to the other side of the pool as the Lurker turned to face her then fired the incinerating blast of magic. 

It bolted through the air, leaving a trail of blueish flame as it struck the creature. It roared, recoiled from the hit and then marched forward. Yvandri backed up onto the bridge and shot a second and then a third expert-level fire attack. The Lurker was now riddled with scorched wounds, patched of it's scaly armor burned off to reveal the scarred, bloody flesh beneath. However, it closed on Yvandri before she could dispatch it with her magic. Yvandri swiped twice with her enchanted sword, cutting the beast with her frosted blade before it raised a foot and stomped on the bridge.

Tentacles and slime exploded from the impact and Yvandri was hurled backward. Her glass sword fell from her grasp, sailing into the acidic sea below, as she tumbled on the walkway. Yvandri forced herself upright and her cloak hung heavy around her body, covered in the caustic slime of this awful realm. She looked up to see the Lurker crossing the bridge, still coming after her. In the absence of her sword, Yvandri called fire to both of her hands. She used both of her hands to charge a single attack and then launched the dual-cast fireball at the Lurker. The spell detonated on impact, a shattering conflagration that blasted the hulking Lurker into charred bits and sent what remained of it flying off the bridge to its doom.

Yvandri scowled and watched the creature fall. Afterward she turned around to resume walking along the bridge and the inclined path beyond. As she did, she again became painfully aware of the corrosive oil that drenched her outer garments. Her armor remained mostly intact but her robe was virtually dripping off of her. It clung to her form as the slime ate through the cloth, forming thread-bare holes as if the cloak were infinity older that it really was. In this damaged state, the enchantment it bore was all but ruined. Thus, Yvandri pulled the wet, torn robe off of her shoulders and cast it aside while she made her way to the towering spire ahead.

She reached the spire and saw it was the tallest structure for as far as she could see. It overlooked much of Apocrypha, though an elevated vantage of this realm did not detract from it's repulsive nature. Yvandri returned focus to the immediate surroundings before her. She saw a pedestal with a book on it, a very similar image to the pedestal and book that brought her to Apocrypha. However, the book laid open on the platform this time, inviting her, calling to her.

Before Yvandri could approach the book, a dark, spotty wound of blackness tore into the space between her and the pedestal. Tentacles squirmed out of this void, followed by a collection of beady eyes. Finally, a single greater eye peeled open at the core of this grotesque display and Hermaeus Mora began to speak.

“All seekers of knowledge come to me, sooner or later,” he said. His thick, moaning voice echoed throughout the plane as if he were everywhere at once.

Yvandri swallowed, finding it quite difficult to look directly at the Daedric Lord. “I am here on behalf of Azura, who guides me,” she said. She was not just another scholar or adventurer meddling with forces beyond their control. Yvandri had a purpose to be here, one greater than herself.

“Azura may guide you, but she cannot teach you as I can,” Hermaeus Mora droned on, his lengthy, drawn-out speech pattern suggesting insufferable indulgence and self-obsession. “She gives you merely a glimpse into her knowledge when she sees fit. I can give you all knowledge there is and ever will be, with which you may do as you please.”

If Hermaeus Mora and his realm were not so putrid and revolting, this offer may have been tempting. All of the knowledge to ever exist? How grand! Of course, there was certainly a catch or some other factor making this proposition ill-advised at best. “I come only for the secrets of this book,” Yvandri stated. “That is all.”

“How... shortsighted,” the Daedric Lord replied with a sigh. “If you continue on this path, you will only be as capable as Azura wishes you to be. She bestows fleeting insight and incomplete visions as a method of obscuring the imminent downfall that results from your worship of her.”

Azura had saved Yvandri from Red Mountain, and, after decades of worship, allowed her to pursue whatever endeavors she desired. There was no way Azura would know of a terrible end in her future and not warn her. Was there? “No,” Yvandri rejected.“I don't believe you.” 

“Then you lack the vision required to see... truth,” the Daedric Lord voiced with authority while also somehow being the most untrustworthy entity Yvandri ever encountered. It was paradoxical. “I am Hermaeus Mora, Sower of Fates. I have power over you, mortal, more than you know. I control what shall become of you, even after you leave this realm,” Hermaeus Mora boasted, basking in his own wicked glory. His main eye fixed on Yvandri and the tentacles within his black void extended to creep towards her. “Allow me to demonstrate the unquestionable axiom that is my will...”

Yvandri returned with a sharp glare of her own. “You do not frighten me,” she said while charging a fire spell in her hand. Hermaeus Mora's words in combination with the way his tentacles approached seemed to lead in a direction Yvandri did not care for. To do battle with a Daedric Lord was far from the smartest thing to attempt yet, this is the situation Yvandri found herself in.

“That is because you liken me to other obstacles you have faced in your past,” Hermaeus Mora said, hinting to the fact that he was not even remotely similar to the enemies Yvandri had battled. Still, Yvandri dared to cast her blazing magic at the being before her. Though, the fiery energy did not even reach Hermaeus Mora before it fizzled away from his warped presence, dealing him no harm. “Alas, the purest of horrors lurk in the future, mortal,” he went on, unfazed by the attempted attack. “That which is unforeseen is always the most... shocking.”

Yvandri's outstretched hand was seized by one of Hermaeus Mora's many appendages. She tried to pull away from the Daedric Lord but the tentacle wrapped tightly from her wrist to her forearm. Her other arm was gripped in similar fashion and Hermaeus Mora proceeded to lift Yvandri's arms over her head until she hung in the air several feet off the ground.

Yvandri thrashed in Hermaeus's grasp, kicking her legs and shouting. “Release me, monster!” she screamed. “Reveal the secrets of this book at once!”

“Oh, you will have your secrets,” Hermaeus Mora said. “...but not without consequence.”

Another pair of black, oily tendrils took hold of Yvandri's legs. They coiled around her calves and ankles and no matter how fiercely she struggled, she could not break free. She hung in the holds of Hermaeus Mora and the wretched lord eyed her. He sent even more of his appendages from the disgusting, blinking, writhing void that was his form. The limbs whipped and slashed at Yvandri, who could no longer defend herself. She squirmed to no avail as the tentacles of her captor cut into her armor, striking mostly her upper chest area.

The slashes cut away bits of her leather cuirass until nothing remained of her chestplate. Hermaeus Mora's many eyes all fixed on the gray skin of her bare torso, full, round breasts, and toned stomach. Some of his strikes had sliced deeper than others, leaving shallow cuts across Yvandri's exposed chest. Yvandri winced from the biting pain and small spots of blood formed along the minor injuries. Though, she had suffered worse before and also figured the worst of this encounter had yet to come.

Hermaeus Mora's boneless limbs brought Yvandri's arms together over her head while doing the just the opposite for her legs, pulling them apart. A tentacle snaked between her spread legs and into the skirt of her armor. It poked around her sensitive areas, prodding and teasing, before it slithered under the scarce fabric of her panties. The Daedric Lord pulled Yvandri's underwear down to around her thighs, just enough to uncover her trimmed pussy. Afterward, he returned his oily tendril to her entrance and slid the tip of his appendage against her dripping slit.

Yvandri felt the cursed tentacle slip between her lower lips. “No! Stop!” she screamed at the Daedric Lord. “You fiend!”

Of course, just like her magic attack, her words of protest had no effect. If, according to Hermaeus himself, his will was an 'unquestionable axiom', Yvandri's willingness, or lack thereof, was entirely irrelevant. This wretched being held no concern of consent; he likely had not considered it in the slightest. This was his realm and Yvandri was ultimately at his despicable mercy.

Hermaeus jabbed the tendril deeper into her wet folds and the tight channel within. The intrusion caused Yvandri to gasp as the limb delved further into her body. It forced her pussy to spread and stretch to fit the immense length. Yvandri looked at Hermaeus as he withdrew the tentacle from her vagina only to thrust again. His many disembodied eyes all returned with a vile gaze of their own, wandering lustfully across her body. Yvandri cried out as the Daedric Lord repeatedly stabbed her cunt with one of his tentacles and held her in place with several others. Her inner thighs became wet with her own fluids and the vile, oily substance that coated the limbs of Hermaeus Mora. It slightly stung her sensitive areas, resulting in a painful pleasure, a tainted bliss.

Yvandri's face and chest reddened as the wicked sensations built inside her body. Hermaeus fucked her without relent until she was writhing in his prehensile arms, panting and sweating. Yvandri screamed and her core muscles tightened around the tentacle that penetrated her and caused her to squirm with dark ecstasy. Soon she was shattered by the throes of an orgasm which made her tremble all over. Hermaeus's tendril pierced her pussy in that moment and began pulsing. A warm, fluid sensation spread within Yvandri's sex and she felt the oozing slime flow from his tentacle with each throb. Hermaeus pulled his appendage out of Yvandri and it emerged coated in both of their glistening juices. 

Yvandri barely had a moment to catch her breath when another set of Hermaeus's black limbs spilled out of the void. They closed on the Dunmer mage and tore off the lower section of her armor as well as her gloves and boots. Now she was fully naked and Hermaeus Mora brought her bare and injured body closer to within only a few feet of his terrible presence.

“I have always been fascinated by the physical forms of mortals,” Hermaeus Mora said, while his tendrils slithered all over Yvandri. “You are born with a body that grows and changes according to who birthed you, a fleshly vessel that you will inhabit until death.” He explored the dewy gray skin of her hips and thighs, her neck and chest. “Meanwhile I can alter all aspects of my shape at will or even decide to simply be formless...”

And so, Yvandri went on being his specimen; she had no choice in the matter. The slimy arms of this Daedric Lord approached her nether regions and entered her once more. A tentacle slid into her and then was joined by another which squeezed within her pussy and began pounding in and out. More of these limbs snaked behind her and groped her ass, coiled around her cheeks, and slid up her butthole. Yvandri arched her back and screamed, tears falling from her eyes in reaction to the mixture of euphoria and agony. A pair of tendrils fucked both pussy and her ass and the sinister sensations that emanated from the intense stimulation threatened to overwhelm her.

The flood of feelings stormed her body and left her hanging limp with her mouth agape. The higher functions of her mind abandoned her during this most heinous assault. All she had left was physical feelings and reflexive spasms. Yet another tentacle found her open mouth and darted inside, forcing itself deeper down her throat until Yvandri gagged. Hermaeus forced her head back and stabbed his tendril further until her airway was blocked and she began to choke.

Yvandri's eyes rolled blankly in her head, her naked breasts bounced freely, and her spread legs shivered from the numerous thrusting limbs that attacked her tight, dripping sex holes. Hermaeus's tentacles began to pulse again and more of his slimy fluid was injected into all of Yvandri's orifices. Her throat overflowed with the bitter ooze and each spurt into her throat caused more to spill out of her nose and mouth until her neck and chest dripped with the dark slime. The tentacles stuffing her pussy and butt also ejaculated their oily load into her body. The putrid substance filled her walls and canals until she was pumped full and began leaking with overflow. 

After coating Yvandri's insides, the tentacles slithered out of her body and retreated. Yvandri hung in Hermaeus Mora's grasp, sweating, exhausted, and dripping all over. Between her splattered, slimy thighs, Yvandri's slit and asshole poured with the Daedric Lord's sludge. The wretched being removed his tendrils from her breasts and thighs and then released her legs next. Finally, Hermaeus Mora uncoiled his limbs from Yvandri's arms and she dropped unceremoniously to the ground. She coughed up black slime and struggled to get up to her hands and knees, still shaken from the brutal fucking she had endured. Splotches of black ooze covered her skin. She looked up from the floor of the spire to see the last of Hermaeus Mora vanish into the hideous portal from whence he came.

In Hermaeus Mora's absence Yvandri heard her own labored breath rasp in her ears as she crawled forward. She weakly climbed up to the pedestal where the book lay open, bleeding with esoteric knowledge. She stood, naked and drenched in the slimy aftermath of Hermaeus Mora's rape, and looked on the wicked text. Three fiery green orbs rose out of the book, wisps of cryptic energy flowing away from the pages. Yvandri examined each of these spheres and she, with each, sensed a location; a plane of Oblivion.

From the first orb Yvandri received the sight of a silvery, ethereal city with a garden of roses and waterfalls in the distance. She recognized the Twilight immediately. This was Azura's realm; Moonshadow. The second orb delivered the image of a web with a tower at it's center and eight paths stemming from said tower into the void. From her research and education, Yvandri figured this to be Mephala's realm; Spiral Skein. The third and final sphere brought to Yvandri a vision of a mountain range with numerous maze-like tunnels within, surrounded by fiery lava for as far as she could see. Yvandri did recognize this plane but, if this realm followed the pattern set by the others, then this way the realm governed by Boethia, Serpent Ascent.

Boethia was the third of the “good” Daedra along with Azura and Mephala. Together they were the Anticipations, or the Reclamations as she had learned recently. They also were known less commonly as the Dark Matrons, the titular Daedric trio mentioned in the title of the book. Black Book: Realms of the Dark Matrons. This was the secret that the book held. This was the prize that Azura sent her to claim; a gateway into the planes belonging to the three Anticipations.

Yvandri looked over the glowing orbs again to double check the planes that she saw. The three spheres beckoned to her equally, but in her heart Yvandri knew there was only one sensible choice. She reached for the first sphere and selected Moonshadow as her destination. Yvandri was naked, bloody, and slimy as a result of what she had suffered to make it this far.

Hopefully Azura would be understanding of her condition...


	3. Light & Darkness

Yvandri grasped the fiery sphere and the cryptic essence burned her palm as the planes of Oblivion shifted around her. Apocrypha scattered into the ether and was replaced with darkness. Yvandri fell to her knees, stumbling within the roiling void of worlds. Eventually this blackness receded and was replaced with the silvery shrouds of Twilight. Once the realms ceased to shift and her surroundings solidified, Yvandri took a moment to get her bearings.

“Moonshadow lies beyond the reach of your world, mortal.”

Azura's voice; one Yvandri had heard before. Though, for Azura to address her in such a way was... unexpected. The Mother of Roses spoke to Yvandri now very differently than she had in the visions she delivered. Of course, this was no vision. She was now physically within Azura's domain of Moonshadow. Yvandri smelled rain and dew on the air which joined the perfume of floral greenery and sweet roses to flood her senses.

“Unless you are illuminated by my darkness, you are unwelcome.”

Yvandri looked out to see the Black Book laying a few feet ahead of her on a cobblestone path. She leaned forward to take the book in her hand, then tucked it under her side before standing up. Upon getting to her feet she was stricken by the overwhelming beauty of the Silvered City resting in the distance. The brilliant palaces and castles glittered like polished steel and bathed in the darkly luminous hues cast by the deep blue sky of Moonshadow. Yvandri squinted against the blinding majesty of the city and raised her free hand to shield herself from it's illustrious glory. To even witness this place was a challenge; it was much too gorgeous for a mere mortal to behold.

“Use whatever foul method brings you here to leave immediately.”

Azura went on, her voice taking the form of an ethereal, echoing melody. Yet, her words only grew more concerning. Surely this is how Azura greeted all mortals and Yvandri would be taken as an exception. The Black Book most certainly categorized as “foul”, however it was Azura herself who requested its retrieval. Yvandri walked on and weathered the magnificence of the Silvered City, its shining, mirror-like structures cast her reflection as she passed. Ultimately there wasn't much point in wondering if she were to be accepted or turned away. All would be settled after meeting Azura, Queen of the Night Sky, in person.

Misty, wisp-like phantoms traveled the streets of this city. They stood faceless and formless, blurred in the dark light. Yvandri glanced at the wandering souls only briefly, seeking not to disturb them on her way through. Who had these shades once been? Would Yvandri eventually stand among them?

Yvandri left that thought when she saw the tallest of the city's castles standing directly ahead. It resembled the other structures of the plane, silvery and gleaming with opulence. She drew near and then soon heard Azura speak again.

“Ah yes, I see you now, my Chosen. Enter the Palace of Roses at once.”

Now Azura invited in her and thus the song of her voice changed. Yvandri did as the Twilight Whisperer requested. She climbed the few stairs leading to an enormous archway that opened into a grand hall of metallic silver and beaming light.

A luscious garden bloomed at the center of the palace, teeming with an abundance of enchanted roses. Their blue and white petals fluttered throughout the hall and occasionally caught on shafts of luminescence. It was from within this marvelous display that the Mother of Roses herself materialized, taking form from the brilliant darkness of her eminent residence.

Yvandri gazed on her, Azura, of immaculate white skin and piercing violet eyes. She wore a crown of silver roses and a pale blue dress with deep, hanging sleeves and an even deeper neckline. Yvandri could not resist the wander of her eyes which lingered on the swell of Azura's cleavage and the curve of her hips. To ogle a goddess was a unique experience...

“Greetings to you, Child of Twilight,” Azura said. She returned Yvandri's searching gaze. “I see, as expected, getting here was quite arduous.”

Yvandri looked away from the Dark Matron. “Please, forgive my indecency.”

“Fret not, your arrival, and the conditions of such, have been foreseen,” Azura said. “Approach and be cleansed.”

Yvandri took a steadying breath before walking forward yet again. She continued until she stood among the roses of Azura's garden, standing within mere feet of the Daedric Prince. The garden lit with a bluish glow and a rush of cleansing energy shot up from the greenery that surrounded her. The blood and slime of her ordeal in Apocrypha vanished and all injuries healed from her bare skin. 

“Thank you, Azura,” Yvandri breathed. “I owe you everything.”

Azura shook her head. “No, you owe nothing; enlightenment is my deliverance. Those who heed are rewarded and those who disregard are lost,” she stated. “Now, then; I'm sure you have questions. There is much to discuss.”

In that moment, Yvandri's mind ran blank. Azura had just given her the chance to speak first, to ask whatever she wished. What should she ask of the Twilight Whisperer? She assumed they would talk about the Black Book soon enough, but for now... the first thing that came to mind was the era of absence, the hundred years of silence that proceeded the current quest Yvandri was on.

Was it even her place to inquire about such a thing? How would she phrase a question like that? There was much rumor about the gods and the ill-fated destiny of the Dark Elves. This suspicion often was espoused in the context of the Nordic pantheon. Though, Azura, with both her connection to the Dunmer and her affinity for fate, was especially relevant if not more so to phenomenon. This is what she would ask about, regardless of what reaction would come of it. She had to know.

“Have you forsaken the Dunmer?”

Azura grinned. “Would I forsake them and then choose you from among the forsaken?” she asked rhetorically. “This is what I will tell you, my Chosen; the Twilight is an entity unto itself. Its veils shift and fade, its threads tense and release. I am constant, but they are not,” she explained. “It is my purpose to weave realities from these illusions. The resulting fortunes come as they are, I do not decide what they reveal.”

So Azura's silence was not a deliberate abandonment of the Dunmer race? That at least was the conclusion Yvandri drew from Azura's words. She moved on to her next question. “Why not choose Aranea Ienith?” she asked. “Even when we all left your shrine, she remained.”

“I did,” Azura stated. “I chose her and then searched the future that would result from that choice. The same process was repeated for all who serve me, once served, or will serve,” Azura went on. “Arenea, and many others I gleaned, failed. You succeeded. You will succeed.”

“Am I alone in my success?” Yvandri asked.

“Alone? No. However, you are in scarce company,” Azura revealed. “You will cross my other chosen in your travels.”

“How can you be sure I will prevail?” Yvandri asked.

“Such is the way of things,” Azura said declared. “I, Azura, Twilight Whisperer, Weaver of Fortunes, must be certain,” she claimed. “If not me, then what being is more worthy?”

Indeed, it made sense that a Daedric Prince associated with fate would be sure of the future they had seen, Yvandri could only agree. However, Azura was not alone in her affiliation with the future. Hermaeus Mora also held claim to a similar kind of power. Yvandri would explore this dynamic with her next line of questions.

“Hermaeus Mora says I will die in service to you,” Yvandri said.

“If you happen to be following me when you meet your end, then what he says will be true,” Azura said, neither condemning nor commending Hermaeus Mora's words. “However, all mortals die, including those who serve myself or any other similar entity. You, my Chosen, are no different.”

It was comforting at least to know that her death would not occur explicitly because of her ties to Azura. “Can Hermaeus Mora control my fate?” Yvandri asked, hoping for a more direct answer. If Hermaeus Mora hadn't truly seen real danger in her future, perhaps he could actively create it instead.

“Hermaeus Mora controls nothing,” Azura declared. “He idly observes. He bears witness,” she said. “What he sees and will see changes just as moons wax and wane. You have the power to alter the fate he has sown. Your direct actions far outweigh his distant influences.”

Yvandri's voice became barely a whisper. “Do you know how I will die?”

“I will unveil only that which may aid you, my Chosen,” Azura said, her face stoic and serene. “You, like all mortals, have want in your heart and desire in your thoughts. I will deliver the knowledge you need to reach these desires,” she announced. “However, your final hour is a revelation I shall not bestow.

Yvandri looked on the goddess before her, staring but saying nothing. Azura knew how she would cease to be, but she would not disclose. It was sobering in a way; it suddenly placed her own life in perspective against other, vastly more powerful beings. How really could she even respond to this development? Nothing remained but to address the ultimate goal of Azura's quest; the Black Book.

“I have used the Black Book to enter your plane,” Yvandri said. “What happens now?”

“The Black Book... an utterly execrable artifact.” Azura's harmonious tones turned sour in speaking of the artifact tome Yvandri carried. “They are all deplorable but this edition especially so,” Azura went on, her eyes fixed on the Book. “When I gleaned that this hideous device would be uncovered, I reached to any who would respond to my call.” Azura's gaze raised to meet Yvandri. “The book must be destroyed.”

Yvandri's eyes widened. “Destroyed?” she asked. “Why?”

“My realm is not for mortals; that is why,” Azura said. “This book makes my plane, and others, dangerously accessible to the living. Look around,” Azura demanded. “Moonshadow lies separate from Mundus for a reason. It is for my past champions and avatars, my fallen followers and worshipers.”

Yvandri glanced back at the city. She had seen the souls and shades that walked the Silvered City. She saw them now as Azura requested. They were Azura's heroes and there were no mortals among them. Yvandri turned back to the goddess with greater understanding.

“What about the others you have Chosen?” she asked.

“They have done me a great service and for that I am truly grateful,” Azura said. Her dulcet tones returned when she spoke of those who knew her favor. “However, to accept a follower while they still draw breath would be a disservice to them and an offense to those who came before.”

“What about those who worship you as part of the Reclamations?” Yvandri asked.

Azura laughed, a pleasant and honeyed sound. “Mortals have tried to organize and classify entities such as myself since the beginning of time. It matters not,” she said, dismissive. “Of course, I hold special favor for the Dunmer. Those who reciprocate are welcome to my plane, but not before they are properly dead.”

Azura was decided. In no uncertain terms, Moonshadow was not for mortals. This extended even to her Chosen and those of the Reclamations. 

“So where does that leave me?” Yvandri asked finally, sensing that the conversation was coming to an end.

“You have traveled the veils of Twilight with great skill. You are now my Foreseer,” Azura said, gifting Yvandri a title and rank within her plane. “The remnant of your spirit will be welcome here when your mortal days end,” Azura offered before concluding. “For now, your work is not done and you must return to Mundus.”

“As you wish, Azura.” At this point Yvandri had the next step of her quest and a new wealth of insight into Azura and her plane. As such, she was indeed ready to return to the mortal world. She took a few steps back from Azura and her lustrous garden before she raised the Black Book from her side. Yvandri opened the book, oily tentacles spilled from its pages, and Yvandri was dragged into the abyss.

“May you find brilliance in shadow...”

From blackness, Yvandri entered Apocrypha and was met once again by its revolting, toxic aura. Though, she did not totally collapse upon reaching this plane as she had before. She stood at the center of the spire where she had been standing before leaving for Moonshadow. Yvandri realized in this moment that she could only access the realms of the Dark Matrons by first traveling Apocrypha via the Black Book. It was almost like having one plane of Oblivion exist within another. As such, she would have to deal with Hermaeus Mora anytime she wished to visit any of these planes. 

This would not be a problem once the book was destroyed, but what about until then? Yvandri wondered what the harm would be of visiting the other two planes available to her through the book; Serpent Ascent and Spiral Skein, belonging to Boethia and Mephala respectively. 

Before Yvandri could consider that further, the Sower of Fates tore a terrible tear into the air in front of Yvandri. He oozed forth like blood from a wound and his eyes and limbs followed in unmentionable fashion.

“Back from walking the veil of light and dark?” Hermaeus Mora asked. “Tell me, what did you find there?”

Yvandri had no idea what to expect from this lord, this creature at this point. She decided simply to answer his question. “I have spoken to Azura, and received further instruction from her,” Yvandri said. “I am now returning to Tamriel.”

Hermaeus Mora seemed to laugh at that, a coarse, guttural sound that echoed thickly across the plane. “You only leave my realm because I allow it, mortal,” he said. “Know that I intend to collect repayment in return for this most gracious lenience...”

With that, the Daedric Lord of Forbidden Knowledge vanished, leaving only his haunting parting words. Yvandri considered them for a moment. Obviously he was not keen on "collecting" now, as he had just gone and the book laid open on the pedestal as it had when she left. She could only assume he meant sometime in the future, possibly the next time she used the book. This is something she would have to account for should she decide on traveling to Serpent Ascent or Spiral Skein. For now, she approached the book and, instead of selecting any of the orbs, she simply touched the book itself.

The void closed on her and she saw nothingness. 

When the void the opened again, Yvandri saw the stone enclosure of Deepdrake Hall. It seemed like forever since she last saw this place or any of the real world. She looked around the 'hall' and couldn't shake the suspicion that there was something else to this place. A secret passage, hidden floors, something. However, that was not the current task at hand. Yvandri picked up the Black Book from the pedestal upon which it laid and turned to leave Deepdrake Hall. As she pushed the door open she could only think of one place that would destroy the Book or at least render it inaccessible: Red Mountain.

The sky was dark and the air was cool when Yvandri exited the burial chamber. Three Redoran guards were waiting just beyond the heavy, carved doors and, when they all glared coldly at her, Yvandri became painfully aware of her nakedness.

“Halt!” the central guard ordered. He stood between the two others and among them, he was the only one not wearing a helmet. “By right of House Redoran, yield at once!” The men on either side of the leader drew their swords and stepped forward.

Yvandri took a step backwards. “What wrong have I done?”

The lead guard folded his arms. “I'm afraid your friend ratted you out,” he said. “You are the follower of Azura, correct?” 

Her friend? Yvandri had brought no allies with her to Solstheim. Could this soldier be speaking of Neloth? That seemed a stretch, they only met once. The same was true of Talvas.

“That is my name,” Yvandri said. “Who are you?”

“I am Captain Veleth and I was informed that you would be here in this ash-ridden hall doing gods know what,” he said. “Sure enough, I come to find three citizens dead and you in possession of a daedric artifact,” he went on. “Not to mention your unclothed state...”

Yvandri pointed at the bodies laying outside the hall. “Those are Reavers, they attacked me!” she shouted. “I travel on behalf of Azura; she instructed me to collect this book-”

“You can tell that to the Councilor's aid,” Veleth said, cutting in. “Surrender the book and submit.”

The other two guards advanced again. With literally no weapon or armor to her name, Yvandri quickly abandoned the thought of resisting. Even without her gear, she did have her magic but she doubted it would be enough to dispatch these soldiers. 

“You're making a mistake,” Yvandri growled. She tossed the Black Book on the ground and one of the guards sheathed his sword before picking it up. The other soldier put away his sword as well and walked behind Yvandri to chain her wrists together.

With the book secured and Yvandri taken prisoner, Captain Veleth nodded. “Right then, to the Bulwark with you.”

The walk back to Raven Rock was mercifully quiet. The guards did not speak, though Yvandri did catch their wandering eyes on her bare naked body. Maybe that was her imagination. She did notice a slight limp in one of he guards as they walked, likely an old wound from some incident or other. 

At any rate, the silence was welcome so that she could sort through the slew of questions in her mind. Did Talvas or Neloth have something to do with this? Is so, what? Had she angered them in some way? Would the Councilor's aid be fair in his assessment of the situation or would his bias against outsiders skew his judgment? Really, for all of these inquiries there was only one way to find out.

Upon reaching the town proper, the whispers and curious looks began. Again, Yvandri became uncomfortably aware of her own nudity. The people of Raven Rock stopped in the street and watched Yvandri walk with her escorts. They walked through the town to the far wall of the Bulwark and entered the fortification. Once inside, the guards took the chains off just long enough to dress Yvandri in a roughspun tunic and trousers. Afterward they returned the chain to her wrists and told her to take a seat at the table.

Yvandri did as she was told. She sat down to the table and looked around. This seemed to be the “office” of the jail with a hall directly ahead of her that likely led to the cells. The orange glow of a fireplace danced on the otherwise grim stone walls and wrought iron of this defensive structure. 

Captain Veleth dropped the Black Book on the table in front of her, drawing her out of the inspection of the facility. “Adril Arano will be here shortly,” he said before sitting down across from her. “He will decide what becomes of you.”

“Great,” Yvandri mouthed. If it were up to him, she would most likely be jailed. At this point Yvandri considered her options for escape. She could possibly use an illusion spell on one of the weaker guards to charm him into unlocking her cell. After that... the rest on the plan would depend on the layout of prison. Exits and entrances, alleyways and such.

The door opened again and Adril Arano, Councilor's aid, entered, his nobleman clothing contrasting greatly with Veleth's armor of molded bones. The official smirked at Yvandri, he seemed almost pleased to see her in this state.

“So, Yvandri,” Adril began. He sat across from Yvandri and glared. “I do believe we met briefly at the dock, correct?”

Yvandri groaned. “Unfortunately.” 

The Councilor's aid grinned. “Yes, and in that short crossing I did suggest that you stay away from the insane wizard Neloth, did I not?”

“You did,” Yvandri said. “So what?”

“So, you insolent outlander,” Adril said. “...you have undermined direct Redoran authority.”

Yvandri gave the aid a look. “As you said, it was a suggestion,” she noted. “You failed to communicate it as a mandate.”

Adril shrugged. “Perhaps I would allow that benefit of doubt if you could keep a secret. No one needs to know about your affairs with a madman,” Adril said.

“What does that matter if have committed no crime?” Yvandri protested. “My business is my own.”

“No, after you visited Tel Mithryn despite my cautions, a disciple of that lunatic then came looking for you,” Adril revealed. “He spoke of a daedric artifact book and some graverobber mission you were assigned to,” he went on. “At that point things became quite public.”

“That cannot be,” Yvandri stated. “Neloth and Talvas merely directed me to the book, we have no greater connection.”

“Well, your friend's actions attest to the contrary,” Adril said. “His lack of discretion has landed him in jail and you will now join him.” He looked at Yvandri. “He should know better and you... you were warned.”

Yvandri's mouth dropped as she watched Adril Arano stand from his chair. He picked up the Black Book as he left the table. At the same time, the two guards from earlier moved to stand behind her.

“Take her away.”

With a flippant gesture, Adril issued the order and the two guards took Yvandri by the arms. They hauled her up to her feet and forced her to walk toward the hall leading away from the office. Behind her, Yvandri could still hear Adril talking.

“Captain Veleth, lock this book in one of the evidence chests,” Adril said. “I'm sure it's not the sort of thing we should let lay around.”

It was probably the smartest thing he had said recently; the Black Book was certainly dangerous. Though, Adril himself would probably be better off worrying about what Yvandri would do once she got out. Their passing disagreement from the dock had now worsened into active hatred. It was unfortunate that Azura had not warned her of this development. It seemed Yvandri would have to prepare and execute a plan of escape all on her own.

Upon reaching the hall of cells, Yvandri's heart sank. There was no dancing firelight, no carved wooden furnishings, or plates of pastries and fruit. Instead, there were only stone walls and iron bars, bathed in cold grays and blues. One of the soldiers held a ring of keys and spun them on his finger on the way through the cells. It was surreal how casual he was. 

The guards walked Yvandri to one of the cells and stopped as the guard with the keys went to unlock the cage door. The bars creaked open and Yvandri felt the second guard, the one with the limp, shove her forward. She stumbled into the cell and turned around just in time to see the door slam shut.

Yvandri walked up to the bars of her cell and glared as the guards walked away, turned the corner, and left her sight. Then, she heard someone call to her.

“Follower of Azura?” he asked.

Yvandri looked across the hallway to the other cell directly on the other side. She squinted between the bars to make out a face she had seen before.

“Talvas?” Yvandri asked. Upon seeing him, her mind spun with questions. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, as you see, things have gone horribly wrong,” the elven mage said, wringing his hands. “Oh dear, Master Neloth is going to kill me. Possibly twice.”

Yvandri stared at him. “They said you turned me in.”

“Did they?” Talvas asked with a nervous laugh. “I suppose I did, though that was not my intent,” he clarified. “After you left, Master Neloth sent me to find you again. He wanted me to ask if you would bring the Black Book back to his laboratory so he could copy it.”

Yvandri raised a brow. “Copy it?” she repeated. “What for?”

“Master Neloth is a procurer of peculiar possessions,” Talvas explained. “The Black Books are fascinating but also rather dangerous. Thus he seeks only to replicate them instead of keep the original,” he elaborated. “He has done so for every Black Book recovered by the Dragonborn, this one should be no different.”

“The Black Book was confiscated by Redoran guards,” Yvandri sighed. “I have do get it back before I decide what to do with it.”

Talvas nodded. “Yes, well, at any rate, I'm glad that you're alive.”

Yvandri eyed the fellow elf. “The feeling is mutual,” she said.

Just then, footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway. 

Talvas gestured to Yvandri then retreated to the back of his cell. Yvandri leaned towards the bars of her cell despite Talvas's warning and looked to her right to see two male Dunmer walking down the hall. When the pair drew closer Yvandri saw that they wore ordinary clothes. 

One of them spun a ring of keys on his finger and the other walked with a subtle limp. Something about this caught her attention, but it wasn't until they both stood at the door to her cell that she put it all together. These were the two guards who handled her from Deepdrake Hall up until throwing her in the cell. They had simply changed out of their armor.

Yvandri took a step backward from the cell door as the plain-clothed guards unlocked the cage. They both entered the cell and then closed the door behind them. The duo of soldiers said nothing, their lecherous eyes communicated everything Yvandri needed to know. They were here for her body. 

Thanks to her time in Riften, Yvandri was no stranger to corruption in the ranks of soldiers and officials. Even the esteemed Empire of Cyrodiil had its share of secrets. Ultimately structures of power were all the same, just different races or different means. Why would this House Redoran be any different? 

The two guards before her were only proof of this cynical outlook as they approached Yvandri. She glared at them and charged an ice magic attack in her hand. The first guard saw this and ran forward to tackle Yvandri before she could cast properly. The icy spear shot into the ceiling and splintered into shards of frost as Yvandri landed hard on the stone floor beneath her. Her attacker grabbed her by the head and turned her over with that help of his partner so that she was on all fours between them.

Yvandri tried to cast again, an illusion spell this time, but the second guard grabbed her arm from behind. The spell fired uselessly at the wall, a shock of red light flashing in the darkness. She struggled to stand until a fist struck the side of her face. The first guard laughed as Yvandri cried out. Her dark eyes cut up at the terrible excuse of an elf only to be punched again. The crack of his knuckles against her skull led to a blunt pain that throbbed across the left side of her face. Yvandri nearly fell limp, hardly able to keep on her hands and knees.

Now, when she was broken, the corrupt guards could strike. The first guard tore the rustic tunic from Yvandri's body and his accomplice pulled the trousers down from her hips. Her bare, gray skin met the chilled air once more and the naked curves of her tits and ass would only serve to encourage her attackers.

The guard in front of Yvandri loosened his own pants enough to reveal his dick. His partner did the same, Yvandri could tell when his prick rubbed between her butt cheeks. She felt hands feel all over her back and waist from behind while another set of hands grabbed the back of her head. The guard pushed his crotch forward and mashed his dick against Yvandri's face. She could feel the shaft of his pecker pulse on her skin as it became erect. He wasn't very long though, even when the excited rush of blood caused the guard to harden. Yvandri had known bigger members in her past. Men usually had longer endowments than Mer races, with Orcs and beasts being larger still.

Of course, that did not stop either of the guards from entering Yvandri despite her obvious objection. She felt the head of a dick enter her from behind first. She winced from the discomfort of the intrusion until the guard had fully forced himself inside, at which point Yvandri groaned. The attacker near her front then eagerly seized her open mouth. He jabbed his shaft between Yvandri's lips and, upon feeling her tongue on his penis, gave a pleasured sigh. 

Both men moved their dicks in and out of Yvandri's holes, roughly abusing her body. They fucked her facially and anally and eventually built a rhythm in which they raped her. The pre-cum from their hard dicks caused Yvandri's lips to become wet and relieved the initial pain in her asshole to be replaced with an unwelcome pleasure. Her attackers grew increasingly aroused and, as they fucked her, their attack grew more violent. 

The guard behind grabbed her hips and hastened his thrusts into her butt. Meanwhile, the guard in front hunched over, held the back of Yvandri's head, and moved his dick in and out of Yvandri's mouth as fast as he could. His balls slapped against her chin and a mixture of saliva and cum dripped from her parted lips. They grunted in earnest and fucked her with force until they came. 

Yvandri felt the dick in her ass bury as far as it would go and then start to twitch once fully inserted. The thick and warm sensation of his cum spread throughout her anus. When the guard pulled out, Yvandri felt his seed leak out of her creamed asshole.

The guard in front of Yvandri pulled his dick out of her mouth and grabbed her tight by the neck. He took a step forward and pushed her down so she was kneeling. There, he stroked his penis with his other hand, finally bringing himself to ejaculate. His dick tensed in his hand as he pointed it at Yvandri's face and came on her.  
Yvandri closed her eyes and turned away as spurts of cum landed on her face, white strands of thick fluid coating her eyes, nose, and mouth. The guard let her go and Yvandri fell forward, gasping for air.

“Filthy outlander.”

Yvandri heard the door to her cell open and shut soon after as the guards left. She lowered herself weakly to the stone floor of the jail and wiped the semen away from her eyes so at least she could see. Though, she did not bother to fix the disheveled nakedness of her clothing. Instead she simply laid there and stared with wide-eyed shock. To be taken by Hermaeus Mora, a Daedric Lord with no mortal concerns, was one thing but to be assaulted, betrayed even, by supposed “protectors” was despicable. Fortunately, night had fallen, and an exhausted tumble into sleep was not far away. The smallest of mercies.


	4. Reclaimer

Scarce streaks of light cut through the small barred windows of the Bulwark. Yvandri squinted against the beams as they swept through the otherwise dull and dim jail. She stirred and raised a hand against the faint morning until she sat up. After shifting to pull up the tattered trousers on her hips, she then pulled the rough tunic over her head to clothe herself. Yvandri sighed. She was decent now but far from glamorous. Her mouth still tasted of sweat and cum from the night before. She swallowed and then stood to approach the bars which held her.

Across from her, Talvas still laid on the cot in his cell. He had not yet woken. Yvandri wondered if he would assist in her attempt to escape. It was something to consider when the time came. When she heard steps from the end of the hall, her heart quickened with adrenaline. Her first reflex was to charge a spell in her hand, expecting these footfalls to belong to the guards from yesterday. Upon seeing it was Captain Veleth, Yvandri quickly dismissed the spell and backed away from the bars. He was not without fault, however he had not raped her either. There was chance yet that he would not be absolute scum. Yvandri noticed a wooden crate under his arm as he drew near.

“Alright, you loathsome mages,” Captain Veleth growled. “Get up.”

Yvandri kept a watchful eye on the captain as he walked down the hall. He stopped and looked into her cell. Their eyes met briefly before he turned to look at Talvas. The captain kicked the bars of the adjacent cell and the clang of his foot echoed in the dusky prison. The elven mage shot awake and scrambled to stand up.

“Who? Wha-?” Talvas stammered. He looked over to Veleth. “Oh, hello, Captain,” he said while straightening out his robes. “What brings you-”

“Shut it,” the captain cut in. “The Councilor wants to speak with you two in his manor,” he explained. “Follow me. Don't walk off. Don't say anything.”

The captain unlocked the door to Talvas's cell and then crossed the hall to do the same for Yvandri. She stepped out of her cage to see the pair of guards coming down the hall. Just looking at them made her stomach turn. They walked until they stood behind her and Talvas, making sure they did only as they were told.

“The Councilor?” Yvandri asked. “What for?”

“Councilor Morvayn is head of House Redoran; he gets what he wants,” Captain Veleth said, obviously just following orders. “Beyond that, ask him yourself,” he said. He gestured toward the end of the hall. “Now move.”

Veleth turned and walked down the hall then Yvandri and Talvas followed with the guards right behind, making sure they didn't fall behind or try to run. The group traveled that way out of the prison and then out of the Bulwark. Yvandri caught a fleeting glance of Adril Arano's face as she exited. He looked most displeased.

Once outside, Captain Veleth led the escort away from the Bulwark, passed the docks, and towards Raven Rock. However, before reaching the town, the group instead stopped at a residence that somewhat resembled the Bulwark. Stone walls, a pair of towers with red banners, and two Redoran guards formed the exterior of Morvayn Manor.

“These are the prisoners as requested by the Councilor,” Captain Veleth announced.

“Proceed sir,” one of the Councilor's guards said. “Councilor Morvayn is expecting you.”

Captain Veleth looked back to his own guards and nodded. Afterward, he entered the manor, followed still by Yvandri, Talvas, and the guards who watched them oppressively. Within moments, they all stood before yet another Dark Elf, a male, who wore fine clothes consisting of a longcoat and a shoulder cape of luxurious fur.

“Councilor Morvayn, these are the prisoners you wished to see,” Veleth said. “Talvas, disciple to Neloth of Tel Mithryn, and Yvandri, a rogue, mage, and outlander.”

“Very good, captain,” the Councilor said. “You and your men return to post, I will deal with them from here.”

Yvandri saw Captain Veleth nod again to the Councilor. He set the crate down on the floor in front of the official before he turned to leave along with the pair of guards from the jail. She looked at this 'Morvayn' character and noticed he did not slouch in his chair as the Jarls of Skyrim did. Perhaps he actually was worthy and rightful to rule, not just in possession of the strongest axe.

“Cut the mans chains, would you?” Lleril Morvayn said. One of his soldiers stepped forward to put a knife through the restraints holding Talvas's wrists together. Talvas was gingerly inspecting his hands when Councilor Morvayn stood from his chair. “Talvas, send Neloth my regards. I do not fear his strange magics, but the people of Raven Rock do,” the official said. He walked forward to stand at the top of the stairs leading to his throne. “With that said, the arrangement remains; you stay out of our way and we stay out of yours,” he expressed while descending said stairs. “Do I make myself clear?”

Talvas nodded. “Yes, Councilor, thank you.”

“Good,” the official said. “Though you should probably thank her,” he added with a gesture towards Yvandri. “This only came to my attention thanks to Elder Othreloth. He informed me that Yvandri here would be arrested on dubious pretense,” Councilor Morvayn revealed. “He asked that you at least be allowed to speak your case. That chance is now.” Morvayn folded his arms and looked Yvandri in the eye.

“Were you indeed guided by Azura to find this book?”

“I was.”

“And were you the one to kill those Reavers near the hall?”

“Yes.”

Councilor Morvayn smirked. “Here, then,” he said before he snapped his fingers. Soon after a guard walked up to them carrying the chest that Captain Veleth had brought with him. The councilor opened the top of the crate and gestured as if to offer it to Yvandri. “The bounty for clearing those ungodly marauders,” Morvayn said. “...and the Black Book, which would likely be safer in your hands than ours.”

Yvandri took a hesitant step forward and peered into the box. Sure enough, there was the Black Book and also a pouch of coins alongside. Yvandri gasped and looked over at the Councilor in disbelief. “Thank you Councilor,” Yvandri said while taking the crate in both hands. “May I ask what makes you say that?” It was certainly different from other reactions she had on the island so far.

“I admire those who worship,” Morvayn stated. “However, I also have a town to govern. Thus I am less studied than a man of my status should be,” he expressed. “You could consider your release an act of faith; a small gesture for the Reclamations is all I can manage.”

“It is far from small in my eyes,” Yvandri said.

Councilor Morvayn walked back to his throne. “Good. Remember that whenever you are in Raven Rock,” he said. Upon sitting down again his said, “I now decree that you to speak with Elder Othreloth at the Ancestral Temple, as he is responsible for this meeting.”

Yvandri nodded. “I will go to him now.”

She hugged the chest closely to her person and Talvas walked with her out of Morvayn Manor.

“Charming as ever, that Councilor,” Talvas said once outside. He turned to Yvandri. “And now you're going to see the Elder? I can only imagine what he has to say.”

“You could come with me if you like,” Yvandri offered.

“Oh no, I shouldn't,” Talvas declined. “I wouldn't want to be in the way. Besides, I should get back to Master Neloth as soon as possible and tell him everything,” he said. “Do consider bringing the Book to him, I'm sure he'll make it worth your time.”

Yvandri sighed. “We'll see.”

“Until then,” Talvas said. He turned to walk away, headed east, back to Tel Mithryn.

Yvandri watched him for a moment before coming back to the task at hand. She next needed to speak to the elder at the Ancestral Tomb. But where was that? She looked around Raven Rock, searching for her destination but unsure of where to go as the town was still quite foreign. Fortunately it was still very early in the morning, dawn, and Yvandri had an idea of how she might acquire the insight she needed. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and called on the Twilight. The veil responded and, when Yvandri opened her eyes again, she saw a silvery thread of fortune leading her to where she wanted to be.

With renewed direction, Yvandri quickened her pace towards the Temple. Though, upon reaching the center of town, Yvandri once more noticed the stares of people. She wasn't naked this time, but she did need some better clothes, preferably some more light armor to replace what was lost. There was a blacksmith on her way through town so she stopped briefly to buy a Nordic sword and another set of leather armor with the gold from the bounty. With about half of the payment remaining, she finally followed the thread of Twilight to its conclusion.

Upon entering the Ancestral Temple, Yvandri was met with dim, somber light and the smell of spices and ash. She carried her crate and the set of leather armor, which she had yet to put on, and walked through the Temple, looking around. She saw two shadowed figures standing on the far end of the Temple.

“Is this the woman you described?”

“Yes, this one believes so.”

Yvandri heard them speaking in the distance; speaking about her, it seemed. “Hello?” she called.

“Draw near, Child of Twilight,” one of them spoke. “We have been awaiting your arrival,” the voice came again, calm and wizened. “Please, set down your things, make yourself at ease.”

Yvandri placed her crate and armor on a nearby table and then approached the two. Once she was closer, she finally saw the finer details of the two men. One was a Dunmer, smoldering red eyes, feathered white hair and a unique set of muted green robes. The other was a golden-furred Khajiit who wore a blue mage robe.

Yvandri turned to the Dark Elf first. “Elder Othreloth?” she asked.

“I am he,” the Elder declared. “Hopefully you did not suffer too greatly at the hands of the guard,” he said. “Q'ishmet came to me with a vision of what would happen to you. Like you he walks with Azura.”

“Greetings to you, Foreseer,” the Khajiit said.

Yvandri nodded. “To you as well.” Her curious eyes lingered on Q'ishmet until the Elder spoke again.

“It is always good to meet people who acknowledge the members of the True Tribunal,” Elder Othreloth said. “Q'ishmet told me you believe in Azura but, you being a Dunmer, I assume your faith extends to the Reclamations as a whole...”

“I follow Azura,” Yvandri said. “That is all I can claim.”

“Then, I must inform you that no one of these Daedric Princes is greater than the others. They are essentially parts of a whole,” Elder Othreloth expressed. “I pray that you soon find the truth that is all three of the Reclamations,” he said, seeking to influence Yvandri's belief. “Speaking of, is it true you found an artifact that would allow mortals to reach the planes governed by Azura, Mephala, and Boethia?”

“Yes,” Yvandri said. She pulled out the artifact tome to show the Elder. “It is a Black Book named 'Realms of the Dark Matrons'.”

“A fitting title,” the Elder commented.“Oh that is absolutely magnificent,” he said upon seeing the Book. He looked at Yvandri. “I would very much like to keep the book here, so as to facilitate direct communion with the Dark Matrons.”

“The connection is not direct, Elder,” Yvandri warned. “Hermaeus Mora and his plane of Apocrypha lie within,” she explained. “Only after one survives that obstacle can they enter one of the three planes belonging to the Reclamations.”

“Dire, perhaps... but you have done it,” he pointed out. “I think other devout Reclaimers would also be willing to take that risk.”

Yvandri shook her head. “With respect, Elder, Azura has made herself abundantly clear, no living being is to enter her plane,” she said with a sigh. “In fact, she demands that the book be destroyed.”

“I see.” Elder Othreloth stroked his beard for a moment, considering what Yvandri said. “And what of the other Reclamations; Boethiah and Mephala?”

“I do not know their opinions on the book,” Yvandri admitted.

“Then you must investigate further,” Elder Othreloth insisted. “After all, the Dark Matrons are equally responsible for our kind and thus equally deserving of a say in the fate of this book.”

Q'ishmet folded his arms. Yvandri looked over at him then back to the priest. “How would you suggest I proceed?” Yvandri asked. She didn't exactly agree, but she did want to hear the Elder's logic.

“If you speak with each of them and the consensus is destruction, then your decision is clear,” Elder Othreloth reasoned. “However if another of the Reclamations wishes for the book to persist, that position must be reckoned.”

Yvandri nodded. “I will consider that advice.”

“You should,” Elder Othreloth said. “One more thing.” He left to pick up something from a nearby shelf. “I am certain Azura has more than blessed you for your devotion but please, allow me to reward your actions as well.” He returned with a sheathed blade of about a foot long, its handle and sheath both black as night. “A ritual knife of the Reclaimer, used for bloodletting the dead before returning their body to the ashes.”

Yvandri took the weapon. “Many thanks, Elder,” she said. “Azura guide you.”

“Blessings of the Dark Matrons upon you,” the priest returned. “Feel free to make use of anything you find here.”

Elder Othreloth moved to go about the Temple and Yvandri picked up her growing pile of treasures she had yet to organize. Given the Elder's words, she figured it would be okay if she took a moment to collect herself somewhere in the Temple. She was going to do so when Q'ishmet called to her.

“This one wishes to speak.”

Yvandri looked at the Khajiit and met his feline eyes. “Oh, of course,” she said. A fellow follower of Azura was certainly worth her time. Actually, if he had not acted on his Azura's insight, she might still be in jail. Though, she did want to straighten her things first. “Give me a minute to change clothes?”

“Khajiit waits for you outside,” Q'ishmet said.

The Khajiit turned to leave the Temple and Yvandri quickly ducked into one of the meditation rooms. She locked the door behind her then set the book down on the floor along with her weapons, armor, and so on. Afterward she stripped out of the rough, coarse clothing she had been given to wear in the Bulwark jail.

Yvandri then noticed some vials of oils and perfumes and a stack of cloths on the wall. She helped herself to these provisions, wetting and cleansing her face and body, her chest and lower regions. With her skin refreshed, she finally put on her new set of leather armor and then strapped the carved sword to her side.

Yvandri inspected the ritual knife next. She withdrew the blade from the sheath to see it was an ebony dagger with a deep red glow. It held the enchantment that drained vitality from those it struck. Yvandri secured this weapon to her hip as well then put the rest of her gold coins in her pocket.

Lastly, the Black Book. Yvandri looked around for a proper method to transport the book without it getting in her way. Fortune smiled on her in that moment, she found a satchel in the meditation room just large enough to hold the Book and not much else. She quickly put the Black Book into the bag and then slung the single strap of the bag over her shoulder. Now that she was wearing her gear and not carrying it, she was ready to leave the Temple.

Yvandri stepped out to Raven Rock and soon found Q'ishmet standing just outside.

“Q'ishmet,” she said. “What did you want to talk about?”

The Khajiit lowered the hood of his robe and turned to look at her. “This one does not much care for these 'Reclamations' the Elder speaks of,” he said. “Do you?”

“Like I told the Elder, I follow Azura,” Yvandri said with a shrug. “I may embrace Boethia and Mephala in the future, but, for now, I do not.”

“We hold differing perspectives, then,” Q'ishmet said. His feline eyes drifted away from her. “The moons of Nirn affect the Khajiit in a way you may not understand. They shape us just as the signs of stars influence ones abilities. As such, enlightened Khajiit seek the Queen of the Night Sky,” the Khajiit explained. “While you entertain the others of the Reclamations, this one answers to Azurah and Azurah alone.”

“So we don't exactly agree on Boethia and Mephala,” Yvandri said. She walked down from the Temple entrance. “What of it?”

“We are yet bound by Azurah,” Q'ishmet said, looking at her again. “Just as this one sees you now, Q'ishmet has seen visions of you,” he revealed. “...the one which was revealed to the elder about your capture and another of you delivering the book to the fires of Red Mountain.”

Yvandri tilted her head. “You have seen visions of me?”

Q'ishmet nodded. “Khajiit has, yes.”

“Are you the Chosen Azura spoke of?” Yvandri asked.

“Possibly,” Q'ishmet said. “This one, like you, is here because of Azurah's word,” he understated, claiming no greater glory. “Now that you have the book, this one must assist in your journey to destroy it.”

“But what of the other Reclamations?” Yvandri asked. “You may denounce them, but, as a Dunmer, I cannot,” she declared. “At least, not in this case. In regard to the Black Book they should be consulted.”

“The Twilight has been woven on this veil, Foreseer,” Q'ishmet asserted. “You of all people should know to heed Azura's dictate,” he said, glaring into her with his slitted irises. “Whether you speak to the others or not, destiny remains.”

Yvandri met his stare with her own dark red eyes. “Then I will speak to them,” she decided. “...if only to educate myself.”

“Enter the book, then,” Q'ishmet said. “Khajiit shall carry it as you venture within Oblivion.”

Yvandri paused to think about Q'ishmet's offer. It was an option she had not considered: to go inside the book while someone else traveled with in in the real world. Ultimately she shook her head. Now was not the time. “No, I am not yet ready to travel to Red Mountain,” she said. “There is something I must do first.”

Q'ishmet sighed and raised the hood of his robe. “Make haste, Foreseer. There are forces that will undo our fortunes if we delay,” he urged. “Use the Twilight thread to find me when you are ready,” the Khajiit advised. He turned to walk away. “Azura guide you...”

“You as well,” Yvandri said.

She stared after the Khajiit for a while until he was out of sight. Denying a fellow Child of Twilight and seeing him depart like that brought a twinge of guilt to her heart. However, according to him, they were destined to travel together in the future. So Yvandri focused on that thought as she also started on her way. She left Raven Rock to the east, headed for Tel Mithryn.

Yvandri knew that copying the book was... questionable at best. However, Neloth had expressed that the Reclamations were not high on his list of concerns. He had also copied the other Black Books acquired by the Dragonborn and this one would probably simply be another in his collection. Neloth would not make any practical use of the copy. At least, Yvandri hoped not.

How even would a copy of the artifact tome function? Would one be able to enter Apocrypha? If so, would they then be able to find and utilize the secrets it held? Yvandri would certainly ask these questions to Neloth in order to make an informed decision.

Just as she was leaving that thought, about half-way to reaching Tel Mithryn, Yvandri felt a presence. Her eyes slimmed and she put a hand on the hilt of her sword. She looked around the ashen wasteland of Solstheim, first to the island's shore on her right and then to the treeline on her left. There, within the burned forestry, Yvandri found what she had sensed, a pair of hooded figures watching her. As soon as Yvandri caught sight of them, they vanished into a vortex of purple magic.

Something had been watching her, following her. For how long? What did they want? Yvandri had no way of knowing. After a moment of pause to see if they would return, Yvandri released the handle of her sword and continued towards Tel Mithryn. Soon, the mushroom tower was in sight and the other fungal structures poked over the horizon as well. Yvandri quickened her pace, jogging the rest of the way until she at last approached the entrance of the main tower. She entered.

Above her, in the laboratory, Yvandri could hear Neloth and Talvas speaking. Something about “essence-conductive crystalline mineral formations” and “codified, repeatable magical effects”. Yvandri floated up to the upper level more gracefully than last time and Neloth looked up from his desk as she landed.

“Who enters?” Neloth asked. “Oh, it's you,” he muttered, looking away. “Do you have the Black Book?”

“Yes, I have the book,” Yvandri said. “Before I let you see it, I have questions.”

“Oh goody,” Neloth groaned. “There's nothing I enjoy more than being quizzed.”

Yvandri walked over to the desk where Neloth was building what looked to be a conjuring staff. She sat down across from him and pulled out the Black Book.

“So, when you say, 'copy' the book...” Yvandri began. “What does that mean exactly?”

“It means I will make a copy. Duplicate it,” Neloth explained with condescending tone. “You will have yours and I will have mine.”

“Could one enter the copy as one can enter the original?” Yvandri asked.

“No, the experience with a duplicate Black Book is much more nuanced,” Neloth said. “There is no 'entering', there is no Deadric Lord poised to rip your mind out, nothing like that,” he joked dryly. “Only the real thing offers such exciting opportunities.”

Yvandri pushed the book across the table. “In that case, I will let you copy it,” she said.

“Oh, how gracious of you,” Neloth mocked. “Now that I have your _permission_...” He spun the book so he was looking at it right-side-up then stood from the table. His hands lit with magic and Neloth began waving in circular patterns over the artifact tome. The Black Book shone with magic as well, a glow that caused the artifact to ripple and shift. From this warping illusion, a second, spectral image of the book rose from the original. With a final gesture, Neloth completed the process, taking the phantom book in his hands where it then turned corporeal.

Yvandri watched Neloth take the copied Black Book under his arm then retrieved the real version. “Talvas mentioned there might be some sort of compensation...” she said while returning the Black Book to her satchel.

Neloth raised a brow, looking at Yvandri and then over to his apprentice. “Talvas?”

Talvas sighed. “'Worth your time', were my exact words, sir,” he admitted.

“You adventurers are all the same. Always seeking rewards,” Neloth lamented. He placed his copy of the book down on the table and walked over to a wardrobe in one of the rooms of the tower. “I happen to have a few master robes lying around. They're not quite of Telvanni make, but what is really?” he said. He perused the closet then said to Yvandri, “Let me guess, Destruction magic?”

“Destruction is my most advanced school, yes,” Yvandri said.

“Pfft, College mages,” Neloth scoffed. He took a master destruction robe from the closet.

“I am adept in Restoration and Illusion as well,” Yvandri added.

Neloth returned to Yvandri and handed her the robe. “Yet your most effective use of magic is destruction.”

Yvandri stood and took the robe. “What is your specialty?” she asked, skeptical.

“Enchanting,” Neloth said. “Hence the enchanting room, staffs, soul gems and such.”

“Can you train me in Enchanting?” Yvandri asked as she draped the dark gray robe over her armor. She was a strong enchanter already, but given the workspace Neloth had and the obnoxious superiority he wore, Yvandri figured there was something she could learn from him.

“Don't be ridiculous, of course I can,” Neloth said. He walked around her, back to the table. “But not now, I was preparing an experiment when you arrived.”

“Another time, then,” Yvandri said. “Though, I wanted to ask...” She walked to stand next to him. “Do you mind if I enter the book here”

Neloth gave her a look. “You wish to brave Hermaeus Mora's plane a second time?” he asked. “Gods know what happened in your first encounter,” he muttered. Finally he shrugged as if to say 'suit yourself'. “Fine, place your book on that desk over there and do as you will,” Neloth instructed, pointing across the room. Yvandri was walking over to the indicated location when she heard Neloth speak again. “Talvas, be sure to catalog my copy of the book and keep any stray magefire away from the original edition.”

Yvandri set the Black Book down on the desk near the edge of the laboratory. It was an experimental workspace for an eccentric wizard-lord, but it was still safer than going into the book alone, with no one to watch after it on the outside. Her enemies were not likely to come here and steal the book while she was inside; that's what she was most concerned about.

With a relatively secure arrangement for the Black Book Yvandri felt comfortable opening the artifact and allowing it to take her inside. Yvandri was swallowed by shadows. When she emerged, she felt Apocrypha seething around her, dripping with secrets. Quickly, she reached for her sword and drew it from the sheath, expecting the Hoarder of Secrets to appear before her. She spun within the spire overlooking the toxic sea, perhaps he was behind her? No, there was no trace of Hermaeus Mora, save for the raw vileness that permeated this horrible place.

Yvandri returned her sword. She knew she would meet the Sower of Fates again, eventually. Until then, all she could do was pursue her own goals and hope to be ready when he did strike. Yvandri turned around and looked at the Black Book on the pedestal within Apocrypha. The same three green orbs hovered over its open pages, its inky text crawling and writhing. The first sphere had taken her to Moonshadow, where Azura governed. Next she would choose the second location, Serpent Ascent, to gather Boethia's outlook on her quest. Yvandri reached for the central orb and Apocrypha faded away to be replaced by utter darkness.


	5. Deceit & Truth

Yvandri blinked away the blackened haze to find herself at the center of a circular arena, its floor and walls made of pale stone. The ground was wet with blood and at least a dozen bodies littered the scene. There had been fighting here. More than that, there were others still fighting and killing each other at that very moment. Yvandri scanned the room and found no distinction among the combatants, they all belonged to different races and factions. She could only assume this was one of Boethia's tournaments.

“Another joins the eternal contest for Serpent Ascent.”

Amidst the chaos, an Argonian charged at Yvandri. He swung with his sword and Yvandri then hurriedly seized her own. Their blades clashed. Yvandri kicked her foes leg and the reptilian hissed as he staggered back on an injured knee. He lunged to slash again but an urgent spray of fire magic kept him at bay. Before either Yvandri or her enemy could make another move, a Nord attacked the reptile, cutting his head off with a greatsword.

“Within my plane, you will bleed or you will draw blood.”

Yvandri heard Boethia's voice but remained focused on the battle that waged around her. She charged another spell in her hand as swords and cries split the air. The Nord readied his weapon and turned to her. He thrust his weapon and Yvandri twisted to avoid being impaled. She countered with a slash of her own that split the Nords neck open. Red misted the air and the man fell before Yvandri delivered a second swing that cut through his chest.

“Only those who slay their opposition may stand before me.”

Yvandri spun to check her flank in this free-for-all battle. In doing so, she saw a veritable war storming around her, though there were no sides, no rhyme or reason, only death in every direction. However, at the edges of the arena, she noticed pathways leading up and away from the fighting. She cast a fireball into the frantic melee and two fighters dropped dead within the explosion. This cleared a path for Yvandri to run out of the battleground and she took that chance. The hall soon inclined into a stairway and Yvandri kept running until she could feel fatigue in her legs.

She stopped to catch her breath and, during this pause, she could still hear the erratic clashing that took place below. Once she recovered some of her stamina, she started walking up the path again; though she kept her sword raised and a fire spell as well. The occasional torch was the only light in this tunnel leading upwards. Yvandri found that it seemed to wind and bend as she walked, and the path also crossed with others like it. As she ascended the serpentine halls, she wondered if all paths led to the same end. What was at the top?

Yvandri went on climbing until she eventually reached a large stone room with a dome overhead. She looked around and saw that the path she had taken was only one of several that led to this final area. A door of carved iron rested on the other side of the room and Yvandri walked over to it, ready to find what was on the other side.

As she approached the door, another fighter exited from one of the other paths. Yvandri looked over to see a male Dunmer with a bow and light armor. Her eyes cut from him, to the door, and then back again.

Yvandri sprinted for the door and the other elf drew an arrow into his bow. Yvandri reached the door and pulled but the heavy iron did not budge. Then she heard the bowstring release. She ducked and the arrow flew an inch over her head.

“I didn't come this far for you to steal my prize,” the other elf said.

Yvandri dropped her sword and called ice to both hands. “Neither did I.”

She dual-cast a swirling cloud of hazy frost at her enemy, followed by a second and third. Her crushing barrage of ice magic froze the elf to death and sent his stiff corpse sliding on the stone floor. Yvandri walked over and searched the body, curious as to what the elf had. To survive the initial madness of the arena, he had to be somewhat capable. His gear was reflective that and Yvandri took the most useful and valuable of this items: his elven dagger, his enchanted ring and necklace, and his copy of _The Reclamations_. Yvandri's stomach turned upon finding this book among his possessions.

Was he a Reclaimer as well? It was likely no coincidence that two Dunmer, also two Reclaimers, would end up fighting in the realm of Boethia, Daedric Prince of Plots. The spellsword left the elf's body and returned to the exit. She picked up her sword then pulled on the door again, however, this time, the doors slid open without much effort. Yvandri sighed.

Once on the other side, Yvandri found a long stone courtyard ahead of her. The setting dropped off into jagged cliffs at the edges with a dark sky of black smoke overhead and an ocean of lava below. An incredible heat boiled up from the brimstone that surrounded the base of the mountains. Of course, Yvandri had higher tolerance for this environment than those of other races. She scouted ahead as she walked forward. A figure stood at the other end of the courtyard, facing away. From the back Yvandri could only see long white hair folded into a thick braid and a shocking red cape which nearly met the floor. Boethia.

“A Champion emerges from the Blooded Crucible.”

The voice reminded her of when she heard Dremora Lords speak: almost like a pair of voices speaking in unison, both fierce, menacing, and vengeful. Soon, Yvandri walked onto the circular platform where Boethia also stood, snake-like patterns carved in the stones around them. Boethia turned around and Yvandri marveled at the goddess before her. They shared a similar gray skin tone but Boethia stood nearly a foot taller than Yvandri. She wore spiky black armor on her shoulders, arms, and legs, a band of silver held her scarlet cape around her neck, and an equally red skirt covered around her wide hips and thick thighs. One thing that was not covered was Boethia's bountiful chest. Her full, round breasts and dark nipples hung freely exposed to the searing air of Serpent Ascent.

“Those who selfishly end lives often find themselves here,” Boethia said, a smirk on her wicked face.

Yvandri sheathed her sword. “I defended myself,” she said.

“No, you killed to further your own goals,” Boethia declared. “For that, I applaud you.”

Daedric Princes liked to twist one's actions it seemed. Hermaeus Mora had done the same thing, painted events to match the rhetoric he desired. It likely worked with most since entities such as these could be more than intimidating. Yvandri for some reason felt capable to contest this tendency. “I find no pleasure in killing,” she insisted.

“Yet your fellow mortals lie dead by your hand. Why did you not spare them? Why did you not restrain yourself?” Boethia questioned, challenging Yvandri's retort. “I know the answer; it is a beautiful thing to exact death on those who live. This is especially true when mortals destroy one another,” she mused. “That the one thing you all have in common would be so fragile... it is exquisite.”

“Why do you delight in death?” Yvandri asked. This was far from the discussion she had hoped to have concerning the Black Book. Though, this exchange would be useful in learning more about those her people worshiped.

“Mortality is an odd thing. Its will is to live but its nature is to die. It wishes for eternity, but rarely achieves it,” Boethia explained. “Thus to bring death to your own is to spare them the plight of this contradiction and bare the weight of your cruel reality in their stead,” she revealed. “Ridding your comrades of this dilemma is an obscure mercy; those who follow me know this to be true.”

Yvandri shook her head after listening to Boethia's reasoning. It followed logically but the result was so extreme. “What is the point of a following that destroys itself?” she asked, seeking to understand.

“What better way to stand against your enemy than to first stand against yourself?” Boethia asked rhetorically. “A clan will not know true strength until they cull the herd. A House that survives the blade of their kin is more capable than one rife with weakness and complacence.”

It was Boethia's influence that created the Dark Elf clans and the Houses that followed, Yvandri knew that. However, to learn that this is the path her ancestors had taken was unexpected to say the least. “Is this where the Dunmer learn to not trust one another?” Yvandri asked.

“Trust is a lie,” Boethia declared. “I, Boethia, Lord of Plots, Seed of Deception, instilled agency within the Dunmer, the means to both form and break alliances,” she said. “Likewise, Mephala inflicted them with a most sinister avarice. It is their nature to suffer, to fear, to betray.”

“But Azura has gifted us with hope,” Yvandri countered. “I am proof of this.”

“You say that as if you are free of treachery,” Boethia mocked. “Yet this very conversation is a betrayal of the faith placed in you by Azura.”

“My being here is no hindrance to the questing I do in her name,” Yvandri said. “I come to gather your perspective on the Black Book before I take action.”

“I know of your quest and your book,” Boethia said, dismissive. “In contrast to Azura, I welcome an influx of mortals to my plane so that they may fight and die in the Blooded Crucible for my pleasure.”

Shock took Yvandri's face. For the Deadric Prince of Plots, Boethia was surprisingly blunt. Of course, this was her plane, where she had nothing to fear, nothing to hide. “This is only another reason to destroy the book,” Yvandri decided. “I will not preserve it just to feed your bloodlust.”

“So you are no traitor to your fellow mortals?” Boethia asked. “Instead you turn on me and assert your will over my own?”

Yvandri almost smiled. “Are you not pleased?” she asked. It had not been her intention, but there was tangible irony in denying the authority of a being who existed to betray.

Boethia walked towards Yvandri. “That depends,” she said as she drew near. “Any fool can rebel. What matters is your resolve against a superior entity.” Boethia stopped within inches of Yvandri and looked down at the Dark Elf. “You oppose me, but are you worthy of doing so?”

“How can I prove my worth?” Yvandri asked. Her smile was gone.

Boethia pressed a hand against Yvandri's chest and shoved her away. Yvandri tumbled backward and her back slammed on the stone floor. “Face me in a contest of dominance,” Boethia said. She dropped her left hand to her side and it began to glow with dark purple magic. “My blade will be your trial...” The ethereal energy solidified into a black longsword and Boethia then advanced with weapon in hand. “...my passion will be your verdict.”

Yvandri looked up from the ground in time to see Boethia stalking towards her. She scrambled to her feet and drew her own sword as the Daedric Prince struck. Yvandri employed both hands to defend herself, one hand on the hilt of her sword and the other on the flat on the blade. Between them, Boethia's hulking weapon bore down on Yvandri and she struggled to keep her footing. Upon realizing her opponent's incredible strength, Yvandri opted to dip to the side of Boethia's blade rather than try to repel it with raw might. The sword fell to her left and cleaved the stone where she once stood.

Boethia pulled her weapon out of the ground, took a step forward, and swung again. Yvandri twisted her sword but the force of Boethia's attack reduced her dextrous parry to a clumsy block. The Dark Elf reeled back, yielding ground as the Dark Matron advanced. Boethia whirled and delivered a third and fourth slash that crushed Yvandri's defenses. This display firmly shattered any delusion that she might defeat Boethia. In fact simply surviving was in question at this moment. Still, Yvandri righted herself and readied her sword again, determined, at least, to not give up.

Boethia grinned at Yvandri and dismissed her longsword. “Show me, Champion,” she said while waving her hand.

Daedric energy poured from her palm and this time an imposing golden battleaxe formed, two large blades on either side of its head, standing almost as tall as Boethia herself. “Show me your resolve...” she called.

Yvandri glared at Boethia, who dared her to attack. Should she play to her desire? Hadn't she done enough 'proving herself' in the Blooded Crucible? Yvandri tightened her fist around her sword and charged fire in her other hand. Ultimately she was in Boethia's plane and the Daedric Prince of Plots would have her way. Thus Yvandri would make her greatest effort to overwhelm Boethia.

She dashed forward and launched a series of fireballs at the Daedric Prince. Blasts of fire shook the area and the flames had yet to dissipate when Yvandri reached Boethia and began slashing repeatedly. She swiped with her sword with all of her might until her arm was sore at which point she fired another fireball at point-blank range. Fiery magic sprayed around her in every direction only to reveal that Boethia remained unscathed. The Daedric Prince lowered her golden battleaxe and swung one effortless blow. Yvandri raised her sword which was promptly knocked out of her hands to clatter on the stones behind her.

Yvandri looked down at her empty hands then stared up in awe of Boethia. The Dark Matron returned with an oddly soft gaze of her own. She titled her head as if to think for a moment before she dispelled her battleaxe. Yvandri watched Boethia reach for the band of silver around her neck. She unclasped the band and let her brilliant red cape fall to the floor.

“Disrobe,” Boethia ordered. “I have made my decision.”

Yvandri raised a brow, certain that she had misheard Boethia's words. However, when the Daedric Prince then brought a hand to her skirt, everything became clear. She pulled the red cloth away from her waist, revealing the thick cock and balls that hung between her shapely legs. Yvandri gawked at the dark, almost black, member, Boethia's sex being several shades darker that the rest of her skin. She was the only Daedric Prince to be depicted as both male and female throughout history. This was probably why.

Yvandri watched Boethia drop her skirt then begin massaging the base of her dick. The elf then realized the Prince was still waiting for her to undress. Hesitant at first, Yvandri took off her bag and then her mage robe. Afterward, she removed the main chest and skirt pieces of her armor in preparation to be taken by Boethia. Fortunately, in contrast to her latest forced sexual encounters, she had been given a choice this time. Though, the alternative was likely death.

At any rate Yvandri found herself at least partly willing in this course of events. She had to admit that seeing a female goddess with such a beautiful cock was strangely exotic and arousing. Yvandri stripped off her undergarments finally and began touching herself.

“Kneel.”

Yvandri lowered to kneel in front of Boethia and the goddess took a step forward. She stood over Yvandri and, with the elf's head between her legs, she laid her meaty cock on Yvandri's face. Yvandri opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to lick Boethia's balls. The goddess moaned as her dick stiffened and Yvandri lapped at her sack. Yvandri took Boethia's shaft in both hands found that her fingers could not even wrap around the full girth of her. As the goddess became erect, her cock grew to reach nearly two feet in length. At that point Boethia pushed Yvandri's hand away from her length and inserted herself into the elf's mouth.

Yvandri felt the head of Boethia's dick slide into her mouth and she licked the underside of the shaft as it entered. She grabbed the goddess's hips to hold on as she bobbed her head back and forth in service to Boethia. The goddess hunched over and pushed her cock deeper into Yvandri's mouth. Yvandri gagged when Boethia forced her lengthy dick down her throat and started to thrust. The elf leaned forward and held onto Boethia's thighs as her mouth gaped to take the goddess's massive member. It pulsed with arousal, choking Yvandri as it hit the back of her throat and beyond.

When Boethia decided she had enough of Yvandri's mouth, she withdrew herself, her immense cock coated and dripping with Yvandri's saliva. Yvandri coughed and wiped her mouth then looked up at Boethia. The Daedric Prince of Plots loomed over her, exuding an unholy glory which Yvandri readily basked in. If she had been undecided on worshiping Boethia before, she converted in that moment. All doubt was now gone. In turn, Boethia was more than welcoming to her newest follower.

“Come,” she said. “Receive me, Champion.”

Yvandri got to her feet and then Boethia picked her up from where she stood. She lifted the elf and then embraced her, bringing her close so that their skin touched and their breasts pressed together. In return, Yvandri hugged around Boethia's neck and also wrapped her legs around the goddess's waist. In this position, Yvandri felt Boethia's rigid shaft rubbing up against the various erogenous zones between her legs. The elf squirmed shamelessly, grinding herself on top of Boethia's hardness.

The goddess arched her hips backward to angle her dick towards Yvandri's sex. Yvandri gasped when the tip of Boethia's cock pressed into her slit. Her nether lips opened wide as Boethia entered her and filled her wet channel. Yvandri whimpered as the goddess slid further into her and stretched her warm pussy. She clung to Boethia and closed her eyes, panting from having Boethia's incredible length inside her. The goddess speared Yvandri with her cock until the elf's pussy lips wrapped around the base of her shaft.

Yvandri threw her head back and screamed after taking Boethia wholly inside. She looked up at the fiery sky and her mouth hung open as Boethia fucked her. The goddess grabbed Yvandri by the waist and thrust hard into her pussy. Yvandri matched this action by flexing her thighs so she bounced up and down on Boethia's dick. They went on making love to each other this way, a Daedric Prince and her elven worshiper. Yvandri moaned with ecstasy and the excitement caused her breathing to be labored.

Her sex glistened with wetness, dripping as pleasure emanated from her vagina. Finally Boethia shoved Yvandri down onto her dick and fully penetrated the elf once more. Yvandri cried out from the overwhelming thickness that filled her pussy. She buried her face into Boethia's chest and closed her thighs tightly around Boethia's waist. Her core muscles tightened around the massive shaft inside of her and her legs began to tremble. She embraced the goddess as deep, sharp, tension built inside her, followed by orgasmic release. Yvandri screamed again and her whole body quivered with erotic aftershock. Boethia loosed a throaty groan as Yvandri's channel sheathed her cock. Soon the goddess's dick throbbed deep within Yvandri and began to shoot cum inside her tight pussy. Yvandri felt her inner walls clench around Boethia's cock and milk more semen out of the goddess.

After a few moments, the pulsing ejaculation eventually came to an end with Yvandri's insides flooded with cum. Boethia then lifted Yvandri off of her cock and Yvandri unwrapped herself from around Daedric Prince. Boethia set her down and Yvandri struggled to maintain her footing, her knees weak from the mind-blowing sex she just received. She chose to lower herself to the floor until her strength returned. She looked at Boethia and her eyes fixed on her hard cock, which was slick with milky white cum. Yvandri bit her lip and touched the pleasant soreness that lingered between her legs. Her hand came away wet with the abundance of cum that leaked from her vagina. She brought fingers to her mouth to taste the goddess's essence.

Boethia turned around and picked up her cape. “You have my judgment,” Boethia said as she draped the cloak over her shoulders. “Proceed as you desire.” A dark, fiery aura enveloped the goddess and seconds later, she was gone.

Yvandri sat alone in the courtyard for a moment longer before she finally got to her feet and gathered her clothing. She thought about Boethia's words as she dressed herself. Her performance in Boethia's contests apparently earned her the freedom to do as she saw fit with the Black Book. Once Yvandri fastened her armor and put on her robe, she slung the satchel over her shoulder. She pulled out the Black Book and opened it, leaving Serpent Ascent. Apocrypha had barely formed around her before she touched the book again. Oblivion faded away and reality took its place around Yvandri. She closed the book, returned it to her bag, then turned around to find Neloth waiting for her.

“Done gallivanting about Oblivion?” the wizard-lord asked. “It's not the sort of place one makes a habit of visiting...”

Yvandri sighed. “I know,” she admitted. “Though, I still need to make at least one more trip.” Mephala and her plane of Spiral Skein remained unexplored. Azura demanded the book be destroyed while Boethia, after some negotiation, allowed Yvandri to do whatever she deemed fit with it. How would the Webspinner react to the artifact?

Neloth shook his head. “Well, it's your insanity,” he said, leaving Yvandri to her own choices. “Perhaps before you are forever lost to the dark corners of Aetherius, you could do something for me?”

“What is it?” Yvandri asked.

“You mentioned you wanted training in enchanting. However, instead of training you, a better use of both of our time would be this task I have for you,” Neloth said. “There is a rare enchantment that draws power from the moons. It reportedly only exists in Skyrim on a handful of weapons,” he informed. “I would like you, with your unique talents, to replicate this effect. Alternatively, you could trek all the way to Skyrim and back to fetch the weapons.”

“I will gather the enchantment for you,” Yvandri said.

“Excellent,” Neloth said. “Here are a few soulgems to help in synthesizing the enchantment.”

“Much appreciated.” Yvandri took the three lesser soulgems and placed them in her bag. “I should be going now.”

Neloth turned to resume his work. “...wooden or metallic implements capable of consecutive casting-” He looked back at Yvandri. “What? Oh, goodbye.”

Yvandri rolled her eyes. She walked through the laboratory towards the hollow shaft leading down to the exit. Before she stepped off, Talvas approached.

“Follower of Azura,” he said. “I must apologize for what happened in Raven Rock. It was my fault of course and could have ended up much worse.”

“Don't speak of it,” Yvandri dismissed. “Azura delivered us from hardship. All is well.”

“Yes, I know,” Talvas said. “...but I also know of Master Neloth's reputation outside of this colony.” Talvas pulled out a grand soulgem. “Please, take this as a token of my gratitude.”

Yvandri added this gem to her bag as well. “Thank you,” she said. “I will return.”

Talvas smiled. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Yvandri nodded and left the tower. Once outside Yvandri weighed her options of where to go next. Raven Rock was not among them. She could investigate the suspicions she still had about Deepdrake Hall. Another option that came to mind was the Skaal village she had heard of in passing. Though, when the silvery-blue thread of Twilight appeared before her, Yvandri knew that finding Q'ishmet was her highest priority. And so she followed the thread, which snaked along the ground into the distance, heading northwest.

Along the way to rejoin the Khajiit somewhere in the burned woods of Solstheim, Yvandri started to feel like she was being followed. She looked over her shoulder and scanned the scorched trees until she caught glimpse of her stalker. It was two watchers, actually, the same two from earlier when she left Raven Rock. They were closer now, Yvandri could see that one was a Dunmer and the other was an Altmer, both female. Yvandri slowed and drew her sword as the pair never broke their gaze, staring at her wickedly.

One of the elves raised her hand and charged a spell, casting soon after. A rippling portal of magic erupted just a few feet away from Yvandri. She stepped backward as a frost atronach unfurled from within the rupture. The conjured being flexed angrily, its hulking form towering over Yvandri and its radiant chill biting through her clothes. She slashed at the elemental creature then sidestepped a jab from its glacial arm. Yvandri cut twice more with her blade and the atronach staggered before striking the ground. A crushing blast of frost exploded away from the impact and Yvandri was thrown back. She quickly jumped up and collected flames in her off hand then launched an incinerating bolt. The magic attack burned away at the frost being and it shattered apart, icy shards drifting on the dry air. With the atronach defeated, Yvandri looked again to the trees. The pair of watchers had disappeared. Yvandri sheathed her sword and resumed following the thread.

Night had fallen by the time Yvandri reached the end of the thread. It brought her to the top of a hill where she found a small tent, an arcane enchanter and a pair of bed rolls. Q'ishmet stood with arms folded looking out at the fuming peak of Red Mountain in the far distance. Yvandri walked up to stand beside him.

“Chosen,” she called.

“Foreseer, you return,” the Khajiit replied. He turned to look at her. “This one is pleased.”

“Are you surprised?” Yvandri asked. “It is our _destiny_ after all.”

Q'ishmet looked away, back to the volcano. “Destination of ours is revealed, but unknown remains the journey.”

Yvandri joined the Khajiit in looking on Red Mountain. An ocean and a province stood between her and the mountain. What would happen on the way? What would happen once she got there? “I crossed two elven mages on the way here,” Yvandri said, thinking back to her two sightings of the stalkers. “Have you seen them?”

“Saw them, yes, but they did not see Q'ishmet.” The Khajiit grinned. “Seemed to be Tribunalists,” he added. “This one did not engage.”

Yvandri looked at Q'ishmet. “Tribunalist?” she asked. “Of the False Tribune?”

Q'ishmet nodded. “Yes, though Q'ishmet is sure they would not describe it that way,” he said. “This one fights at your side should they appear again.”

If Q'ishmet had been a Nord bound by honor and the old ways, his offer of joining her in battle would be more convincing. Still, after being barred from Raven Rock and stalked by cultists, Yvandri would take any help she could get. “Sounds like a plan,” she said.

A long silence passed where they both gazed out to Red Mountain. It called to them, dared them to survive its hellish gauntlet. “Much travel in our future, Foreseer,” Q'ishmet said into the silence. “Q'ishmet suggests you rest. This one keeps watch while you sleep,” he offered.

“I'm going to meditate for a while,” Yvandri said. “You can rest first.”

Q'ishmet turned and walked over to the bed rolls. “Khajjit will nap, then,” he said. “Wake this one when you wish to do the same.”

Yvandri nodded and Q'ishmet went to lie down. The elf craned her neck upward to take in the night sky. A pair of moons stood starkly against the dotted midnight, Masser and Secunda. One large and white, the other reddish and smaller than the other.

Yvandri lowered to sit cross-legged then closed her eyes, head still tilted upward. She took in a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. When she exhaled, all that remained was herself and the night. Stars and moons took her mind and her consciousness flooded with shadow. She saw the Silvered City, the Palace of Roses, and then even the Twilight Whisperer herself. Yvandri took in Azura's brilliant visage within this transcendent state of mind. Upon finding quarter within Moonshadow, she dared to commune.

“Azura?”

“Foreseer...”

“I seek to harness the power of the moons,” Yvandri thought. “What boon do they possess?”

“An astute inquiry,” Azura commented. “Shadows speak of secrets, Twilight speaks of the future,” she said. “Yet the moons hold truth in silence...”

Azura faded away soon after and her plane of Moonshadow followed suit. Yvandri's trance ended and she opened her eyes to see the dark sky. Azura's words echoed in Yvandri's mind as she looked up at the night. The moons hung overhead and their silence rang truer now than ever. This is the power that Masser and Secunda contained; Yvandri now knew. She stood up and walked over to the arcane enchanter.

There she pulled out the elven dagger and one of the lesser soulgems. She crushed the soulgem into the dagger, testing this new knowledge. The weapon began to glow white with the Silent Moons enchantment and Yvandri was convinced she had figured out the effect Neloth spoke of. As such, she took out her Nordic sword and this time used the grand soulgem Talvas gave her to infuse a much more powerful version of the enchantment. A flash of white light burst from her sword. Yvandri placed the enchanted dagger in her bag and returned her Nordic sword to its sheath. Once she finished enchanting her weapons, she left the enchanter and walked over to the bed rolls.

She shook Q'ishmet awake and then laid down for the night.


	6. Consequence & Punishment

“Wake, Foreseer.”

Yvandri felt a paw on her side jostle her from slumber. She opened her eyes and her blurred vision met with the dark of the waning hours. Q'ishmet was kneeling over her, his slitted eyes looking into her sharply.

“What?” Yvandri groaned. She sat up from the bed roll. “What is it?”

“The mages you spoke of,” Q'ishmet said. He stood and looked out on the wasteland of Solstheim.

Yvandri joined him in scanning the ashen distance. “They're here?” she asked. “Where?”

Q'ishmet pointed. “There, in the distance,” he said.

Yvandri squinted into the dawn. “I don't see them,” she said.

“Not yet,” the Khajiit said. “You will.”

Yvandri looked at the cat folk and then back toward the scorched treeline. Q'ishmet, being a Khajiit, could see the two robed figures at a greater distance. Eventually Yvandri did see the elven mages walking through the burned woods. Yvandri drew her sword and its white glow shone against the grim morning. “Any idea what they want?” she asked.

“This one assumes you would know more than he...” Q'ishmet said. It was true, given her race, that Yvandri would be more knowledgeable of the conflicts between the various Dunmer Houses and religious factions. However, Yvandri was only recently converted as a Reclaimer.

Yvandri watched the figures stalk towards her. She heard the deafening clang of a conjuration portal and saw the rippling violet light of Oblivion filter through the trees. A frost elemental spilled forth from the ether while a second summoning occurred, spawning a flame atronach. The atronach threw a bolt of fire and Q'ishmet raised a hand to ward the attack. He maintained the ward to shield himself and Yvandri from an arc of lightning then cast a courage spell on her. Yvandri glanced at the Khajiit for less than a second then ran forward with her bolstered vitality and stamina. The Tribunalists and their summons emerged from the woods as Yvandri rushed to engage.

She slashed the icy being and her silvery, moonlit sword set the creature ablaze with lunar fire. Stark white flame burned brightly against the dawn and Yvandri jumped away soon after. Ice shards crashed behind her as she dashed again, dodging a second fiery shot from the other atronach before charging an illusion spell in her off hand. She launched the spell at the High Elf and the foe mage fell into a fit of trembling fear. Yvandri could hear Q'ishmet casting his own spells, covering her flank with his magic. The metallic rush of alteration armor, the warped whisper of illusion magic, the sharp crack of lightning attacks. A flash of shocking blue tore through the flame atronach on Yvandri's right as Q'ishmet struck down the summon. Fire erupted from the destroyed elemental, an inferno that bathed the area as Yvandri clashed with the Dunmer Tribunalist.

“Die, Reclaimer!”

Yvandri exchanged ice spears with the enemy Dark Elf, shots of frost streaking through the burning forest. The Tribunalist drew a dagger once Yvandri closed the distance. Yvandri suffered a stab to the ribs before slashing her enemy across the neck. Blood poured from the deep, splitting wound and brilliant lunar flame burned the life from her foe. The Tribunalist fell dead and Yvandri turned to see Q'ishmet get knocked down by the frost elemental. She charged a fire spell and aimed to assist her Khajiit ally until the High Elf mage recovered from her fear spell.

“Tribune smite you!”

She interrupted Yvandri with a dual-cast lightning attack and Yvandri staggered backward from the force of the magical blow. The Tribunalist was charging another spell to fire on Yvandri until Q'ishmet paralyzed her with an alteration spell. The Khajiit subsequently was crushed into the ground by the frost atronach, flattened by a brutal chilling spike. Yvandri swore and then turned back to the remaining Tribunalist. She pulled back with her enchanted sword and screamed as she swung the blade. A crescent-shaped wave of luminous energy shot away from her weapon. The glowing arc of lunar magic streaked through the petrified elf and cleaved her in two from shoulder to hip. A wake of pale flame radiated from the bisected remains. Yvandri turned to Q'ishmet. With it's conjurer dead, the frost atronach dissolved into nothingness.

Yvandri walked over to the Khajiit. He turned onto his back and summoned healing energy to mend his injuries. Yvandri lent her magic to assist his recovery before helping him to his feet. Afterward, she brought the golden light to her own wounds.

“You fight well,” Yvandri said.

“Many thanks, Foreseer,” Q'ishmet replied. “This one warned of those who would seek to interfere...”

“This is true,” Yvandri acknowledged. She walked back to the bodies of the cultists. “We should begin heading for Vvardenfell...” she said, thoughts trailing as she searched the Dunmer corpse for anything of worth. She gathered a soulgem and a scroll, typical for enemies of this type, before finding a note. Curious, she opened the folded parchment. Her eyes went wide upon reading that not only were these mages of the False Tribune as Q'ishmet had predicted, but that they were in league with Adril Arano. He was the one who sent them to follow and kill her.

This meant that Adril believed what the majority of his fellows in Raven Rock would call heresy. If he had enough sway with the Tribunalists to sent mages to kill her, would he eventually try to usurp the Councilor or the Elder? This was something that probably should be brought to the Councilor's attention. On the other hand...

“Find something?”

Yvandri turned to see Q'ishmet with a sack on his back. The tent and rolls were packed and he was ready to go.

The Dark Elf stood and folded the cultists orders. “They were sent by the Councilor's aid,” she revealed. “This could mean religious overthrow for Raven Rock...”

The Khajiit sighed. “You wish to warn them?”

Yvandri folded her arms and thought. “No,” she said after taking a moment. Ultimately Azura's quest held the higher priority. “I will tend to this matter first.”

Q'ishmet nodded and turned away from the forest. “Days ago Q'ishmet saw a hunter ship in the north,” he said. “With luck, it will still be there.”

“Luckier still if they let us travel our course,” Yvandri said. She checked to make sure she had all her gear, weapons, and the Black Book. Afterward, she started off. “Let's go.” She began walking to the north as the sun rose and Q'ishmet followed behind.

~ ~ ~

Yvandri and Q'ishmet reached the northern coast of Solstheim and were fortunate to indeed find a fishing ship. Dead horkers and mudcrabs laid on the shoreline near the vessel, butchered for their blubber and shells respectively. However, instead of sailors or fishermen, Reavers stood around the carcasses.

“Seems the ship was taken since this one last saw it,” Q'ishmet said. Yvandri looked back at the Khajiit then back at the Reavers. There were three of them, two Dunmer and one Nord, who seemed to be the lord of the group.

“Not yet,” Yvandri said. “Look, there!”

In addition to the trio on the shore, there was another pair of Reavers on the ship proper. A Nord woman in a white fur coat clashed with these attackers on board the upper deck.

“Move along, outlanders,” the Reaver Lord said. “This ship is ours.”

Yvandri rolled her eyes. “Cover me,” she said. Q'ishmet nodded.

The Dark Elf drew her sword and ran at the Reavers. She blasted the bandits with a fireball and Q'ishmet cut through the enemies with several streaks of lightning. Yvandri loosed a whirling cloud of ice and the Reaver scum on either side of the lord fell dead under the onslaught of magic. In the next few seconds she was within melee range of the lord. She twisted to dodge a swing of his axe then struck back with a slash that cut the weapon from his hand. Before the lord could react beyond a growl, Yvandri spun her sword and swung again. Her blade lopped the head off of her foe, who swiftly fell dead.

Yvandri scowled at the grisly corpse as she sheathed her weapon. Perhaps Boethia was right, perhaps it was her nature to slay her fellow mortals. She stepped over the bodies of the Reavers and Q'ishmet followed her up the ladder leading to the deck. At the same time, the Nord woman cut down the second of the two Reavers who had climbed onto the ship. She looked over at Yvandri with her icy blue eyes, her dark brown hair in a single long braid, a smear of purple warpaint along her left cheek. Streaks of blood soaked the thick, white fur of her coat and dripped down the length of her steel greatsword.

“Are you with them?” the female warrior growled while she raised her blade.

Yvandri put a hand on her hip. “Do I look to be a bandit?”

The Nord woman glowered. “Where are the others?” she huffed.

“They're dead,” Yvandri declared. “You're welcome.”

“We don't need your help, stranger,” the woman snapped. “These are not the first Reavers to try and take our ship.”

“And they won't be the last,” a male voice said. An older Nord man walked up from the lower deck. “Please don't antagonize those willing to help the Skaal, Hrelva.” Yvandri scanned the man. He bore striking resemblance to the younger woman and wore heavy fur armor as well. A dozen or so shipmates also resumed moving about the ship, Yvandri assumed they had been hiding.

“We are grateful to you,” he said once coming within a few feet of Yvandri. “What is your name?”

“Yvandri,” she said. “This is my follower, Q'ishmet.”

“Alvund,” the man said while he offered a hand. “I am a man of the All-Maker. As such, how might we return your favor?”

Yvandri ignored the gesture. “Take us to Vvardenfell,” she demanded.

Alvund crossed his arms and looked Yvandri over. “A bit far, but very well,” he decided with a nod. He turned and called to his fellows. “Hang the wings, men. We sail.”

Hrelva jogged after the man as he went about the ship. “Father, you can't ferry them to that wasteland. That would take us days off course,” she protested. “Offer them a barrel of our catch instead.”

Alvund turned and gave his daughter a stern look. “No, Hrelva,” he said. “I have decided and you would do well to know your place.”

Yvandri watched the father and daughter go off to relay the change of course to their deckhands. Hrelva looked over her shoulder before following her father below deck. Yvandri smirked when they were gone. The gods or customs of the Skaal were of little concern to Yvandri. So long as it allowed Yvandri to reach the next stage of her quest, that is all that mattered.

“Fortune smiles, Foreseer,” Q'ishmet said. “This could have gone much worse.”

“Of that I am more than aware,” Yvandri replied. “Alas, we have not succeeded just yet.”

To quote Hermaeus Mora, the greatest of horrors “lurk in the future”. If only all mortal peoples believed as she did, perhaps this daunting mission would not be necessary. Upon having that thought she was instantly reminded of Elder Othreloth and his insistence on taking the trio of Dark Matrons as equally divine. Despite her initial resistance to the idea, Yvandri now largely believed what the Elder described after traveling the Oblivion realms. Mephala yet remained a mystery, but Yvandri still found herself wishing the Reclaimer faith was more widespread. Actually, the fact that the Reclamations and Daedra worship in general were so widely hated by the races of Men did not bode well for her quest. The knowledge that she was destined to succeed possibly was more concerning than not knowing. The Black Book would meet the fire of Red Mountain. However, Yvandri wondered, what would it take to accomplish that feat? What costs would there be? What sacrifices would be made?

Heavy, billowing sails unfurled overhead and brought Yvandri away from her thoughts. The ship soon took wind and began heading for the ash-scarred Dunmer homeland of Vvardenfell. With Alvund and Hrelva, and by proxy, the other fellows of the vessel, in her debt, there was nothing left to do besides wait to reach her destination. Yvandri reached to her side and drew the Black Book from the satchel hanging at her hip. Q'ishmet's slitted eyes fixed on the artifact before he looked up at the one who held it.

“I will enter the book now,” Yvandri stated. “While you travel in this world, I will travel Oblivion.”

Q'ismet nodded. “This one guards the book and awaits your return.”

Yvandri looked at the cat folk and their eyes met. He would have to bear the voyage without her company but she hoped to return from Oblivion before he reached Vvardenfell. If not, certainly before Q'ishmet would be forced to travel the ashen wasteland alone. This train of thought again reminded Yvandri of Hermeaus Mora's words.

“The Sower of Fates spoke to me in one of my previous ventures,” Yvandri informed. “He expressed that I owe a debt to him for passing through his realm so frequently.”

“He has yet to collect?” Q'ishmet asked.

“I have eluded him twice now; if I can do so a third time all will be well,” Yvandri said. “If not, it is possible I may not return.”

“Foreseer, this one can only br-”

“Hear me, Q'ishmet,” Yvandri cut in. “If I do not emerge from the book before you reach Red Mountain, you must destroy it.” Yvandri handed the Black Book to her Khajiit follower.

Q'ishmet took the book. “This is what Azurah demands?” he asked.

“This is what I demand, as her Foreseer,” Yvandri said.

“Then Q'ishmet must act accordingly,” he said while turning the book in his hands. “Azurah guide you.”

Q'ishmet opened the book and Yvandri drew her sword. The pages parted in her direction and an inky blackness spilled forth. Tentacles reached out from the dark and Yvandri stepped into their grasp. The void engulfed her and, in the utter lack of light, her moon-enchanted sword shone brightly. The absence between realms had scarcely faded before a boneless limb wrapped around Yvandri's arm, cutting her about the hand and wrist. Apocrypha solidified around her and Yvandri saw the green orbs, the open book, and the pedestal upon which it rested. However, she could not reach for her goal. Instead she was dragged backward, fighting to keep her footing. She turned to right herself before swiping at the tendril. Wisps of white fire burned along the limb which recoiled, followed by a monstrous roar from Hermaeus Mora himself.

“You insolent worm!” he growled.

Yvandri pointed her sword at the hideous Lord. “You are one to talk, fiend.”

“To you I am fiendish, yes,” Hermaeus Mora agreed before going on. “However, I am so much more. More than you could ever imagine.”

“I do not care for you secrets, Hermaeus,” Yvandri said. “Azura bestows all the insight I require.”

“You are blind and through her you will never see!” the Daedric Lord said, his many limbs flailing in anger. “I offered you forbidden knowledge! I offered secrets you would never understand without me!”

Hermaeus Mora fired a tentacle from within the void of himself. Yvandri twisted to dodge yet the limb still slashed her upper shoulder. Blood leaked from the wound as she countered with her a slash of her own. More lunar fire spread away from her weapon. It seemed that her physical sword could not harm the Daedric Lord but its enchantment did have an effect.

“You offered, I declined,” Yvandri said. “Why does that anger you so?” She swung at Hermaeus Mora again and clashed with a pair of his many arms.

“You use my realm only as a means to an end,” the Daedric Lord said. “This is unacceptable; Apocrypha is not to be ignored.” Hermaeus Mora pressed his tentacles against Yvandri's weapon, growling as it burned him. “If you will not take from the fruits of this garden, you will be punished.”

Yvandri finally cut away her enemy's appendages and lowered into a stance with her sword raised. “Not without consequence.”

Hermaeus Mora loosed a deafening roar and fixed on Yvandri with his many grotesque eyes. He cast out nearly a dozen of his tentacles and set them all slashing and whipping at Yvandri. She ducked and dodged and angled her sword to intercept the grievous arms of the Daedric Lord. The sound of violnet slashing echoed against the dreadful wail of Apocrypha. Yvandri defended herself and backpedaled, slicing at the incoming limbs before they could slice her. At the same time, Hermaeus Mora's despicable presence drew closer and his multiple tentacle offenses became more fierce. Try as she might, Yvandri failed to counter every strike from the Lord. She suffered a slash to her leg and a gash to her forearm before a tentacle plunged deep into her chest. Shock took Yvandri's face and Hermaeus Mora laughed as he stabbed further into the Dark Elf's upper torso. She fell to her knees and tears welled in her eyes as she grabbed the tentacle lodged in her chest.

The limb was dripping with a terrible aura that seeped into her body like poison and consumed her physical and magical strength. The Dark Elf bit at the pain and braced as Hermaeus Mora continued to be amused by Yvandri's moment of defeat. However, despite her waning might, Yvandri struck with her lunar sword and launched a shining wave of white energy. The projected magical blade cut through the tentacle, severing it. The Deadric Lord cried out, reeling from the loss of his limb. Yvandri forced herself to stand through the draining effect and blood loss that ravaged her body. She strained to raise her sword and attack again. With the last of her strength she sent a second crescent-shaped wave of lunar magic directly at the Sower of Fates. It sailed through the caustic of air of Apocrypha and cleaved straight through the Daedric Lord. A blast of white fire exploded through Hermaeus Mora, a brilliant and glowing burst of enchanted magic that ripped the wretched being to shreds. Yvandri released her sword and dropped to her hands and knees. Heavy, shaken breaths filled her lungs as she struggled to steady herself. She called restoration magic to her hand and prepared to heal herself.

As she did, a spot of blackness appeared over her. This spot then expanded into a ghastly hole. This void writhed and pulsed wickedly until finally it sprouted eyes and tentacles.

“You thought you could destroy me?”

Yvandri looked up in just in time for Hermaeus Mora to reform and swipe her across the face with one of his arms. Her head snapped back from the strike and the whole right side of her face was reduced to blood and ripped flesh. She fell on her back and turned over on the pathway leading to the tower where the Black Book lie open only a few yards away. So close, yet so very far.

“I am Hermaeus Mora!”

Yvandri clawed at the path beneath her, crawling away from the Daedric Lord that loomed overhead. She inched forward through the agony that tore her body. Despite her greatest efforts, she only reached about a foot closer to the book when Hermaeus Mora spoke again.

“I am deathless!” he screamed. “I am infinite!”

The Daedric Lord coiled a tentacle around Yvandri's left leg and dragged her backward. Yvandri reached out to the Black Book as if through sheer will she might touch it and escape Hermaeus. However, such was not the case. She found herself in the clutches of the Hoarder of Secrets once more. He raised the Dunmer by the leg so she hung upside-down in his grasp, her skirt and cloak taken by gravity, her arms dangling.

“I cannot be undone by a cretinous mortal!” Hermaeus growled. He sent a second of his black, spindly limbs to take hold of Yvandri's other leg before he used a third appendage to rip off her panties. She attempted to thrash in protest but, due to her many injuries, only managed a slight squirm. Yvandri's vision flooded with red, the open flesh of her wounds blazed with pain, and her mind teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. She had the will to resist but no means with which to do so.

“Take my seed of knowledge, twilight wanderer,” Hermaeus Mora said.

He plunged a tentacle into Yvandri's opening and a hoarse shriek spilled out of her throat. A sharp sensation cut deep into Yvandri's vagina and she trembled all over from the combined pain and pleasure.

“It shall grow and fill you with the myriad paradoxes you could have known,” Hermaeus said before he stabbed even further into Yvandri and stretched her channel stretched dangerously wide. What little pleasure there had been vanished when the tentacle began to tear her inner walls. Eventually Yvandri felt a terrible piercing in her abdomen as Hermaeus Mora forced his tentacle all the way into her womb. Upon reaching the elf's reproductive core, Hermaeus Mora began to inject his greenish-black ooze directly into her body.

“What once may have been an asset will now be your burden to bear,” he explained while his tentacle pulsed inside of his victim. A new gush of slime entered Yvandri's reproductive organ with each tense and release of his tentacock. Hermaeus Mora pumped Yvandri's womb so full of his gooey essence that her belly became swollen. Her inflated stomach expanded to beyond its capacity and then the abundance of Hermaeus Mora's slime started to squirt out of her vagina, leaking all over. “When it finally emerges, you will see the error of your ways...”

With his victim broken, bloody, and gravid with his seed, Hermaeus Mora tossed Yvandri away. She landed and rolled on the pathway as Hermaeus Mora vanished, dissolving into nothingness. Yvandri lay on the platform for a long moment alone in the nigh-silence of Apocrypha echoing in the distant darkness. Gory streaks of red marred her lustrous gray body and her skin stretched around her distended belly. Yvandri groaned as she pushed up to her hands and knees. This shift caused her ballooned stomach to slosh with foul ooze and churn with Hermaeus Mora's omens and esoterica. Its foreignness seethed within her as she again began to crawl toward the book. She pulled herself up onto the pedestal and reached over the Black Book to grasp the third and final sphere...

~ ~ ~

The blackness between worlds flooded her and, when it receded, Yvandri was met with a violent inferno. Fire and fury stormed around her, blistering flames that flared with rage. Yvandri looked ahead to see a tunnel ahead of her which was painted wild shades of red and orange by the fires. Before even trying to stand up, Yvandri tried to cast a restoration to alleviate some of the pain she was in. The spell fizzled; she didn't have enough magic after fighting Hermaeus Mora. Unable to heal herself, Yvandri again surveyed her new surroundings.

No ethereal voice spoke to her, no Daedric Lord offered their name or introduced this hellish plane. There was only the roar of fire in her ears and the searing heat in her lungs. However, this was no ordinary blaze. No, this was the infernal manifest of anger and death. Within this apocalyptic scene it was an excruciating effort just for Yvandri to get to her feet. Her engorged gut hung heavy in front of her body as she tried to take a step. Fiery insanity erupted all around her, fraying her nerves, burning away her willpower. The thick, arcane fluid inside her only worsened this predicament, filling her mind with whispers and secrets and voices. These two phenomena combined to make a maddening blend of frustration and paranoia.

Yvandri stumbled forward weakly as her thoughts devolved into panicked nonsense. Her eyes were wide and frenzied while her body was cut, bloody, and slimy all over, unable to do much beyond trudge forward slowly. To make matters worse, an enormous Daedric spider appeared on the far end on the tunnel. It turned to Yvandri, drawn to the scent of her blood, and chittered towards her on its numerous spiked legs. Yvandri shot a bolt of lightning that cut through the spider and stunned it, but before she could cast again, the spider leaped at her. It bit her in the thigh and a fresh burst of pain and blood took her body. She fell hard on her bitten leg and the spider proceeded to bind her lower legs with its silk. The last thing Yvandri felt was the spider Daedra dragging her down the tunnel as the realm burned with madness.

~ ~ ~

Sometime later, Yvandri woke to silvery threads crisscrossing in the blue-black darkness. She found herself bound by these same sticky threads which wrapped around her limbs and torso. There she hang, seemingly tied to the nebulous black that swirled in the sky above. In the far distance she saw eight pathways that all led to a central point, a tall stone tower, the roof of which was directly below her. A gruesome display of spikes, webs, and corpses littered this area. Among this carnage stood an immense figure who likely stood twice as tall as Yvandri. The being had quills instead of hair, coarse gray skin, and eight huge spider legs protruding from its back. A loose, tattered gown covered the body of this creature which was adorned with crude jewelry looking of unpolished gold. Yvandri looked down on this entity from her hanging silk prison and saw that it held a certain Daedric artifact tome in it's clawed hands....

“The book...” Yvandri groaned. “The Black Book. Are you-”

The being's sinister eyes cut over to look at Yvandri. “Mephala, the Eight-Legged,” she announced, her voice a haunting whisper. “Caster of the Shadowed Web, Lord of Deathly Avarice...”

“This is your realm?” Yvandri asked through her bloodied daze. “I don't understand...”

Mephala returned her gaze to the Black Book, flipping through it as she spoke. “Spiral Skein is not meant for the living, though I know you have heard that before,” the Whispering One said. “You entered via the Burning Skein of Mortality's End. Fitting, given your crossings with Hermaeus Mora...”

Yvandri's mind swirled with confusion. Her womb stirred with arcane information that only distracted her attention from the current situation. It was a struggle to even grasp Mephala's words amidst the other secrets and lies that swam throughout her body.

Mephala snapped the book shut and the sound of it closing brought back some of Yvandri's awareness. The Whispering One went on to say, “There are eight skeins in total, all of which lead here, to my forbidden domain. The Pillar Palace we shall call it, lest you perish upon learning its true name.”

“How do you know what I've heard?” Yvandri asked. “How do you know of Hermaeus Mora?”

Mephala lowered the Black Book to her side and walked over to Yvandri. The Dunmer hung above the Daedric Lord from the silvery threads that suspended her from the infinite dark of the plane. The strands of silk were red in spots where her wounds met the wicked web that held her. “The Omensilk has taken of your blood, mortal,” Mephala revealed. “I am thus abreast of your exploits both past and future.”

“Then you know of my quest concerning the Black Book?” Yvandri asked. “Do you wish it destroyed?”

Mephala raised a skeletal arm towards Yvandri. “I know what you have decided, and I know what you are destined to do,” she said while poking Yvandri's inflated stomach with her sharp, pointed index finger. “You will be released to act out the future Azura has given you.” Mephala traced upward from Yvandri's belly and broke the Dunmer's skin with her claw. “I could kill you and return the book to the mortal realm,” Mephala mused, toying with the idea, hinting at the power she held in this moment. “...thus feeding Boethia's bloodlust and wreaking havoc on Azura's realm...”

The Whispering One carved a shallow cut upward to Yvandri's chest and between her breasts, spots of fresh blood beading along the wound. Yvandri's breath ran short and she squirmed in an attempt to escape Mephala's dragging claw as it reached her collar bone and then her neck. Mephala drew her blooded finger to her mouth. Yvandri watched with peril as Mephala tasted her vital essence and the Daedric Lord's eyes sharpened with fury. “Instead, I will punish you for placing a grand divination in jeopardy and insulting me by seeking consul when you've already made your decision.” Mephala took her free hand away from her face and clutched the raw darkness of her realm. Rippling waves of purple magic radiated from her grasp. Daedric energy gathered in her palm and formed into the shape of a spider. The conjured arachnid urgently began wriggling its many legs, eager and hungry.

Yvandri looked on as Mephala placed the creature onto her distended belly. She twisted to try and shake the summon off, but the spider clung to her with its claws. “This offer will join with what the Sower of Fates has planted inside you,” Mephala said as the spider minion crawled underneath the bulge of Yvandri's fat womb. It traveled between her legs and Yvandri felt the spider's pincers dig into the tender flesh of her privates. “May the resulting abomination be truly perplexing and unspeakable...” Mephala said. Her arachnid spawn peeled open the lips of Yvandri's entrance then burrowed its head inside her folds. A horrible scraping and biting ripped through her vagina as the creature climbed inside her. The spider spawn tore her fleshy channel as it carved its way into her womb and Yvandri screamed agony. She felt the insect bond with the sloshing ooze of her birthing organ. This led to the freakish sensation of the creature writhing and squirming within the pool of wicked knowledge.

Mephala reached again to caress Yvandri's face with a guiding hand. Yvandri looked at the Dark Matron as tears of horror spilled down her own face. Mephala leaned close to the elven mage and whispered. “If you survive, consider your affront excused.” With that, she opened the Black Book to a random page and shoved the artifact in Yvandri's face.

“Now go and never return.”

Yvandri witnessed the inky runes of the tome for what seemed the hundredth time. The utter blackness of the book appeared to spread beyond the page until Yvandri could no longer see at all. She could not hear or feel either. Soon she would see Apocrypha again and afterward return to the real world. However, for now, there was only the void.


	7. Deliverance & Retribution

Yvandri virtually drowned in the nothingness that hung betwixt the planes. She floundered in the empty dark, lost. Her shattered mind and flayed body drifted across the aether without purpose. She reached with all her will but failed to find direction. How long had she been trapped in the depths of the Black Book? The dark knowledge within the tome proved so obscure as to be indistinguishable from literal darkness. Was she alone with her thoughts or so engulfed in the unknowable that she could not escape?

Within the artifact there was no time. Seconds later, or perhaps it was years, Yvandri sensed the unmistakable sickening aura that was Apocrypha. She felt its coursing black ocean on her skin, its blistering green sky burning with untruth. However, she did not come to see the plane belonging to the Hoarder of Secrets. Instead, the realm passed through Yvandri's being just as it came. She did not reach for the book to whisk her to reality, some outside force acted on her behalf. Amidst falling through the silent infinity of the dark, Yvandri felt a furred paw take her hand.

Yvandri clung to the sensation, tightening her hand and praying to Azura. The elf heard Q'ishmet roar as he pulled her up and out of the Black Book. Yvandri fell forward onto blackened rock, landing on her hands and knees. Q'ishmet let go of Yvandri's hand and she looked up to see that they were surrounded by ash spawn. Their glowing eyes blazed orange in the smoky night that hung over Vvardenfell. Yvandri strained to stand as her Khajiit follower shot spears of ice at the creatures.

Her swollen belly yet ached with the duo of daedric seeds in her womb. Still she managed to find her footing and join in blasting the fiery enemies. Embers and ash wafted through the searing wind as bolts of fire and ice crisscrossed in the midnight.

Once their last enemy was reduced to dust, Yvandri lowered to pick up the Black Book from the craggy rocks at her feet. She groaned from the motion and placed a hand under her hanging stomach as she rose up. Upon standing again Yvandri saw a monstrous volcano fuming angrily at the sky. Yvandri's mouth gaped and her heart quickened at the sight of it. Red Mountain.

“Foreseer...”

Yvandri took a step towards the volcano, drawn to it like magnetism.

“Foreseer, you should be healed before going on,” Q'ishmet said. “You obviously have suffered at the hands of-”

“No, Q'ishmet...” Yvandri muttered. “Red Mountain. I'm so close.”

It was most certainly true that Yvandri survived an arduous ordeal within Apocrypha and Spiral Skein. However, Yvandri trudged toward the peak of the mountain despite her tiring daedric pregnancy. With her goal in sight, she powered on. She and Q'ishmet made the grueling hike into the firestorm that radiated from the crest of the volcano. Yvandri welcomed the heat.

While those of other races would find it unbearable, Yvandri felt it was calming in a way. She basked in the warmth and her pains and worries were melted away. After finally braving the treacherous volcanic ebony surrounding the mouth of Red Mountain, Yvandri raised the Black Book. A hellish lake of fiery bubbled below and destiny awaited the completion of her quest. So Yvandri tossed the book.

The artifact dropped into the churning maw of lava just as Q'ishmet had visioned, just as Azura had divined. Though, there was an element Yvandri and her allies had not expected. When the Black Book met the fire of Red Mountain a stroke of agony erupted within Yvandri's womb. She doubled over and grabbed her stomach as Hermaeus Mora's ooze spun into a hateful swirl that spilled pain throughout her body. Q'ishmet ran to Yvandri and caught the elf before she fell.

Yvandri clutched the Khajiit as her legs grew weak and her breath ran short. They stood that way for a few minutes while Q'ismet took this time to cast a few restoration spells on Yvandri. He was able to mostly mend her surface wounds in that moment. However, the more dire injuries like her slashed half of her face and the stab in her chest would require more time and energy. Yvandri leaned on Q'ishmet as they started to walk down from the peak, the Black Book burning behind them in the molten chasm of Red Mountain.

“I should thank you,” Yvandri rasped. “For everything...”

“This one suggests saving your strength, Foreseer,” Q'ishmet said. “We may speak later.”

Yvandri looked ahead and saw nothing but burned sand and ruins covered in ash. “I just wanted to say that before we part ways,” she said. In the night that loomed overhead and the dark smoke that spewed from Red Mountain, the wastes of Vvardenfell took on various shades of black and gray.

“Q'ishmet does not see this as a good time to split up, Foreseer,” Q'ishmet said.

“If not now then later...” Yvandri said. Her quest was complete. What reason did he have to follow her now?

“There may be other callings for this one,” the Q'ishmet said. He looked at Yvandri. “For now he remains at your side.”

Yvandri smirked. “Alright, then where are we going?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Back to the ship,” the Khajiit said.

The elf raised a brow. “The Skaal fishers?” she asked. “How did you get them to wait for us?” While the father was more accommodating than his daughter, Yvandri had not expected at all to return to Solstheim the same way they came.

“I told them of your quest to destroy the Black Book,” Q'ishmet revealed. “The Skaal harbor much hate for Hermaeus Mora.”

Yvandri sighed. “Don't we all?” She stumbled from fatigue. How long had they been walking?

Q'ishmet tightened his hold on Yvandri. “Stay strong, Foreseer,” he said. “We only have a bit further to go...”

Yvandri pushed herself to keep walking with her Khajiit ally until they reached the coast of Vvardenfell. She endured the pain and tiredness until it was too much to bear. The silhouette of the massive Skaal ship against the moonlit ocean and the ash-black ground was the last thing Yvandri saw before she fell unconscious.

~ ~ ~

Many hours later Yvandri woke to the glow of sunlight on her face. Her left opened more than her right, which was still raw around the lids. The horrid agony of the previous day was gone but some measure of pain yet lingered in her body. Yvandri looked down to examine herself. Someone had taken her armor off and washed away the blood that once covered her skin.

Save for some bandages, she was naked, laying in a bed she did not recognize. In fact, much of her current setting was foreign. Where was she? She sat up in the bed, groaning a bit as she did. The elf scanned the architecture of the place. It seemed to be a longhouse or meeting hall of some kind. She was in bed on the second floor, watching from above as Nords gathered around a longtable.

“What is that thing inside of you?”

Yvandri turned to see Hrelva standing over her. The elf pulled the rough blanket up to her chest to preserve her modesty.

The Nord woman scoffed. “Don't bother hiding it,” she said. “Your friend told me about your quest to destroy Herma-Mora. That demon is the one responsible, isn't he?”

Yvandri looked away. “Yes, he is,” she admitted.

“I knew it,” Hrelva growled. “I knew father helping you was a bad idea. You've brought a terrible omen upon our land.”

“I appreciate your fathers help,” Yvandri said. “However, I understand your fear of the spawn that I carry.”

“Good,” Hrelva snapped. “Here are your things,” she said, throwing a bag to Yvandri. “I suggest you leave our village before your ill fate befalls us all.”

Hrelva turned and walked off. Yvandri watched her go before looking into the bag. It was the satchel she had once used to carry the Black Book. The artifact was gone of course but other loot she had acquired in her journey was still inside. Her enchanted daggers and jewelry, soulgems and scrolls, books and other things.

What she did not find were clothes of any kind. Since her armor and cloak had been destroyed beyond repair, surely Hrelva's father had provided something for her to wear. Yvandri stood from the bed, careful to not let her hanging belly sway too much. She found a set of fur clothes sitting on a stand next to the headboard. Initially Yvandri questioned why she had been given clothes and not armor. Afterward she realized she couldn't really fight with her birthing organ so very swollen with daedric seed.

In fact, she had yet to consider the thought of delivering the wretched offspring of Mephala and Hermaeus Mora, herself being their mortal incubator. She would need to speak with Q'ishmet or perhaps Neloth about a plan to remove and the destroy the hellspawn before it was too late. Yvandri dressed herself in the white fur coat, black trousers, and boots she had been given. The coat could not close fully around her waist so Yvandri left it to hang open as she pulled the bag onto her shoulder and then walked downstairs. She left the longhouse.

Q'ishmet and Alvund were talking near the entrance of the hall. They turned to see Yvandri as she walked outside.

“Sleep well?” the Nord man asked.

“Well enough,” Yvandri said. “I suppose I have you to thank for my miraculous recovery?”

“Yes, well, don't discount your friend here,” Alvund said. “He and I took turns healing you as best we could.”

Q'ishmet nodded agreement. “It's good to see you feeling better.”

“Thank you both,” Yvandri said. “There remains the issue of the creature growing inside me,” she said, looking at them. “I should go before it develops fully.” There was no telling what sort of threat her daedric child would be once it was born.

“I strongly disagree,” Alvund said. “If what Q'ishmet has told me is true, this is not the sort of thing you can face alone.” He folded his arms. “You should stay here so that we Skaal may help you kill it.”

Yvandri glared at him. “And what if it kills you all instead?”

Alvund shrugged. “Someone will have to face it, Skaal-friend,” he replied. “If not us, then your people in Raven Rock. Or perhaps the warring armies of Skyrim.”

“This assumes the growth is meant to escape you,” Q'ishmet added. “It may have some other purpose...”

Yvandri shook her head. “No, it will emerge at some point,” she stated. “That I know for certain.” Perhaps Hermaeus Mora's arcane ooze would simply remain in her body and bleed with wicked knowledge until it dissipated. However, Mephala's spider summon had bonded with the fluid, changing it into a spawn that would mature and then eventually be birthed. While inside the Spiral Skein, the Whispering One had said as much herself.

“Then we will face it,” Alvund decided.

“Your daughter would disagree with that choice,” Yvandri said.

“It is not hers to make.” Alvund countered. “She is strong and proud, but she needs direction.”

Just then, Hrelva exited the meeting hall. “Is that so?”

Alvund turned to his daughter. “Yes, I dictate as such.”

Hrelva rolled her eyes. “You are a shaman, father, not a king.” She then pointed at Yvandri. “And she is a Dark Elf bringing the pain and loss of her ancestors unto us like a plague.”

Yvandri took a few steps away from the group and leaned against the side of the hall. She was breathing heavily and holding her aching stomach. She closed her eyes and tried to remain calm amid the flaring tensions around her.

Q'ishmet growled. “You will not speak of Azurah's Foreseer in such manner.”

“I don't care about your moons or your goddesses or whatever you claim,” Hrelva said, dismissing all they had fought for. “What I know is this is our home and you two are not welcome.”

“Enough!” Alvund shouted. “By the All-Maker, we will rid the world of this foul beast should it dare to appear.”

“Father, we are no army,” Hrelva pleaded. “We have ten warriors and another dozen hunters. Do you expect us to slay the child of a Daedric Lord?”

Before Alvund could respond, Yvandri cried out. Alvund, Hrelva, and Q'ishmet all turned to see Yvandri shut her eyes and wrap both hands around her engorged belly. The ungodly fluid inside her womb began to churn and pulse, the discomfort of it causing her legs grew weak. She slid down the wall, unable to stand.

“It seems we will find out soon enough.” Alvund said to his daughter. “Bring the maidens, quickly!”

Hrelva ran into the longhouse.

Q'ishmet walked over and kneeled next to Yvandri. “Foreseer?” he said. “What are you feeling?”

“It's coming,” Yvandri choked out. She looked up at the Khajiit with tears in her eyes. “...the spawn.”

The surface of Yvandri's stomach rippled and she arched her back, eyes wide with fear. Sharp contractions shredded through her core as the oozing monster in her womb struggled to get free. Yvandri fell flat on her back and began to convulse.

Alvund and Q'ishmet carried Yvandri back into the longhouse just as the maids finished putting down a blanket for her to lay on. The two young women, also Nord, pulled off Yvandri's pants while Hrelva went to clear the house. Alvund and Q'ishmet remained but averted their gaze from Yvandri's naked nether regions. She was leaking black oil from her vagina, something neither of the nursemaids had seen before.

“Be careful,” Alvund said to them. “This is the offspring of a Deadric Lord.”

“What?” one of the maids gasped.

Something tore inside Yvadri and the trickle of black slime became a torrent. Liquid evil sprayed out of her cunt in a horrific display. The maids were covered in this vile discharge and only continued to pour from between Yvandri's parted legs. After a few seconds of this appalling occurrence, the fluid darkness began to gather into a central point several feet above Yvandri. More oil spilled out of her womb, defying gravity as it floated up to create an increasingly large ball of blackness. Yvandri's stomach deflated until there was no more daedric seed in her body. She laid there, exhausted, staring up at the writhing orb of profane liquid, its mere existence an insult to reality. It reminded her of a certain Daedric Lord...

In similar unmentionable fashion, the void sprouted tentacles, eight of them all writhing wickedly. This was followed by eight wretched eyes that peeled open within the ooze. Finally eight spiked, arachnid legs formed out of the creatures body along with a maw lined with razor-sharp incisors. Once the creature was solid, it fell to the floor, glaring at Yvandri and radiating with purple daedric magic.

Yvandri backed away as the awful sixteen-legged daedra stabbed a leg into one of the young girls and shoved her into its mouth. The lower half of her body stuck out of it's mouth and Yvandri could hear the girls muffed screaming from inside the beast's teeth. A blood-curdling crunch echoed through the long house as it bit down and Yvandri watched the girls legs spasm before she fell dead. The other maid tried to run but was only speared through the back of the head by one of the monsters tentacles. She collapsed as her brain was torn out and consumed.

The tentacled spider fixed on Yvandri before its attention was torn away again, this time by Q'ishmet and Alvund. They attacked the creature then swiftly withdrew, drawing it out of the longhouse. Yvandri watched her allies back out of the doorway, followed by the daedric spawn. It lashed out with its tendrils, ripping through the wall as is chased them outside. She turned over onto her hands and knees then pushed herself to stand on her wobbling legs. Her inner thighs were still slick with the dark slime of afterbirth.

Unsteady, she stumbled but was able to catch the wall before she met the floor. Bloody cries and the clashing of steel split the air outside the longhouse as Yvandri walked herself toward the shredded doors and the splintered frames they once stood in. She took a moment to close her stained coat before she took another step, out of the hall and into the heated fray. A violent melee stormed around the offspring of Hermaeus Mora and Mephala that she had brought to fruition: Phalaeus, of Sixteen Limbs, the Sinful Enigma, Yvandri's Spawn. Half a dozen warriors laid gutted and dismembered at its feet but the beast was far from finished. It sliced off another head and disemboweled another warrior. Yvandri scanned the bodies and failed to find Q'ishmet or Alvund among the dead.

Hrelva rushed passed Yvandri, greatsword in hand. “Don't just stand there!” she screamed.

The Nord woman charged into the battle as Phalaeus screeched and slashed and stabbed at its enemies. Yvandri limped forward and called fire into her hand. She fired an incinerate at Phalaeus followed by a second and third.

The blazing magic burned away at the daedra and through the combined efforts of herself, Q'ishmet, Alvund, Hrelva, they managed to sever a few of the creatures many limbs. In addition to Q'ishmet and her own magic, a third and fourth stream of elemental damage poured into the demon. Yvandri turned to see Neloth and Talvas join the effort to destroy Phalaeus. It fought hard until the teamwork of Yvandri's allies was too great to overcome. It gave a piercing cry as the last of its life was burned away. Phalaeus dissolved into a mist of black magic that flew towards Yvandri and disappeared.

“That's not a good sign,” Neloth noted.

Yvandri shook her head. “An astute observation,” she mocked, though she could only agree. It did seem that Phalaeus was not fully gone for good.

Hrelva returned her greatsword and glared at Neloth. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Yvandri said. She knew who they were obviously, but why were they in the Skaal village.

Neloth laughed. “I think you mean, 'thank you for killing that whatever-in-Oblivion-it-was'.”

Alvund looked to Yvandri. “Are these friends of yours?”

“Hardly,” Neloth scoffed.

Talvas clarified with, “Loose acquaintances.”

“I see,” Alvund said. “Might I speak with you before you entertain these gentlemen?”

Yvandri nodded and followed after Alvund when he turned to head inside the hall.

“Take your time,” Neloth called from outside. “We only traveled over half the island to get here.”

Alvund and Yvandri left the dead bodies outside only to once again encounter the gory remains of the butchered maidens. An eerie wind whistled through the sundered entry of the longhouse, wooden debris glinting in the pale sun. Yvandri looked at Alvund until the pain in his eyes was too much to witness. She lowered her gaze, guilt-stricken.

“I am sorry for the deaths I brought to your village,” Yvandri said. “The fault is mine.”

“To die fighting evil is an honored death,” Alvund said. “However, our small village is not built for this kind of conflict,” he went on. “As Hrelva said, we are few. The Dragonborn's quest took our lead shaman and now this... I cannot allow daedra near our land ever again,” he decided. “You must go.”

Yvandri nodded again. “I understand,” she said. “I will be moving on soon.”

“Go in peace, Skaal-friend.”

Yvandri turned around, took a long breath, and walked back outside. She saw Talvas kneeling over a pair of warriors who managed to survive the battle with Phalaeus.

Hrelva scowled at the elf. “Why don't you cast your fancy magic someplace else?”

Talvas looked up at her. “Your fellow warriors are wounded,” he said before going back to his magic. “Should I not heal them?”

“Don't you have horkers to be smacking on the head?” Neloth added.

“You prancing elf!” Hrelva growled. She was reaching for her sword when Yvandri came out of the meeting hall. “Good, you're back,” she said. “Now the whole lot of you can leave.” With that, she went to join her father.

“So about your reason for being here...” Yvandri said.

Talvas stood from the wounded warriors. “We were looking for you,” he said. “...again.”

“What for?” Yvandri asked.

“Tribunalists attacked my colony, that's why,” Neloth replied. “They also attacked Raven Rock,” he added. “Given your affiliation, I expect you know something about this.”

“Yes, I crossed some Tribunalists two days ago,” Yvandri said. “Adril Arano sent them to kill me.”

“ _Two days ago_?” Neloth repeated, shocked. “You've known the Second Councilor to Raven Rock is a heretic for two days?” He couldn't believe it. “Why, dare I ask, would you not act on that information sooner?”

“I was questing on behalf of Azura-”

“Oh, Azura, of course!” Neloth said. “Why else would you let cultists roam about Solstheim and take over whats left of this ash-ridden island?”

“My apologies, Neloth,” Yvandri said. “I will address the situation now.”

“Oh, how _considerate_! Tel Mithryn is on fire but I'll just wait for you to 'address the situation'.”

A new wave of guilt took over Yvandri. She had known about Adril Arano and the False Tribune but chose to set Azura's quest as a greater priority. The longer Yvandri delayed in destroying the Black Book, the more at risk Moonshadow was of being plagued by the living. On the other hand, not applying herself to the religious conflict of the Reclamations and the False Tribune had caused mayhem and death. Not to mention if the Tribunalists got their hands on the Black Book... There seemed to be no correct answer. “Neloth...” she said. “I don't know what to say...”

“The Tribunalists are after everyone now, not just you,” Neloth informed. “I thought you would like to know,” he said. “You know, so that you might actually _do something_ about it. Anything at all. Whenever you're ready. Any time now...” Master Neloth continued spouting off passive-aggressive phrases as he walked away, clearly upset more than Yvandri had ever seen him.

“Forgive him, Follower of Azura,” Talvas said. “He is quite angered.”

Yvandri sighed. “Understandably so,” she said. “Tell him I will go to Raven Rock and do what I can.”

“There's no need, he knew you would go,” Talvas told her. “He said for me to join you.”

Yvandri's eyes lit up. “Really?” she said with a smirk. “Then we shouldn't delay. Q'ishmet are you well?”

“Q'ishmet is well, yes,” he said after meekly waiting for Yvandri the whole time.

“Let's go save Raven Rock,” Yvandri said. She was not the hero they would want, but she was the only one they would receive.

~ ~ ~

Yvandri, Q'ishmet, and Talvas walked the ashen wastes of Solstheim. They had been traveling for a few hours with only the occasional word exchanged. Without horses it would be another few hours before they reached Raven Rock and it would likely be dark be that time. Until then, Talvas was the one to break the silence.

“So... Q'ishmet.”

“Yes?”

“Do you also follow Azura?”

Q'ishmet nodded. “This one does.”

“That is very interesting,” Talvas said. “May I ask what led you to that path?”

“Khajiits hold moons as sacred. Moons appear in the night sky,” Q'ishmet explained. “Thus, Q'ishmet worships Azurah, the Queen of the Night Sky.”

“Yes, that does seem a logical conclusion,” Talvas said. He turned attention to Yvandri. “What about you, Follower? How did you come to know Azura?”

“My mother was given a vision of Red Mountain before it erupted,” Yvandri said as she kept walking. “She traveled to Skyrim with a few dozen other believers. They built the Shrine of Azura...” Yvandri shrugged. “I just grew up with it...”

“And what about now?” Talvas asked? “Where do stand on Reclaimers versus Tribunalists?”

“I am a Reclaimer,” Yvandri declared. “I have witnessed and experienced our Dark Matrons firsthand. There is no question,” she said before returning the question. “You?”

“Oh, well, I...” Talvas stammered. He cleared his throat. “I agree with Master Neloth mostly, there's just more practical things I would rather focus on,” he said. “However, the Tribunalists are certainly an enemy of mine at this point.”

Yvandri wondered if Talvas had ever considered his beliefs for himself. His response seemed to suggest he hadn't.

If he was going to join her in fighting a religious war, he should probably first decide what he saw to be the truth.

“On that, we agree,” Yvandri said. “We will soon have our chance to deliver retribution.”

Yvandri looked ahead and saw Raven Rock was finally visible on the horizon. The town burned.

~ ~ ~

The sky was dusky bordering on dark upon reaching Raven Rock. The fortified east gate of the town was riddled with craters and patches of fire. Piles of rubble from the wall were strewn all about the Bulwark area. Yvandri and her allies ran into town to find only more destruction. Most, if not all, the building were burning around them and the air was heavy and dark with smoke. There were three hooded figures in the road ahead, masked by the pluming haze.

“By right of Sotha Sil, you must perish!”

“Tribunalists!” Talvas screamed.

Yvandri, Q'ishmet, and Talvas engaged the cultists is a duel of magic and the smoky darkness between them became filled with erratic flashes of lightning and fire. After the enemy mages were dead, the group carried on. Yvandri led them into the Councilor's home, Morvayn Manor, and there they found and defeated another cultist and their atronach summon. Yvandri coughed and waved smoke away from her face as she walked further into the burning building. Bright red fire climbed the walls on either side of her as she kneeled down next to a Dunmer nobleman. He was rasping and clutching a scorched hole in his chest.

“Too precise to be fire.” Talvas said. Yvandri agreed. Lightning, then.

“Is the councilor safe?” the official croaked.

Yvandri shook her head. “We haven't found him yet.

“Cultists headed this way, Foreseer,” Q'ishmet announced.

Yvandri looked back to the doorway to see a pair of elven mages enter. “Where are the guards?” she asked the wounded man.

“Most are away on emergency order from the Second Councilor,” he said, straining with every breath. “Some mining expedition...”

The noble fell limp and Yvandri started to heal him as her allies battled the cultists. Streaks of ice and lightning shocked bright blues against the red glow of the fires. Yvandri cast her restoration effect on the noble but the man did not respond. She ground her teeth and her brow tightened as she stood from the body and whirled around to aim at the door. Her hand was dripping with frost as she cast the attack. A chilling cloud of ice sailed down the hall and froze the cultists to death as it passed. Yvandri then turned and sprinted up the stairs. There she found the Councilor in the corner of his throne room, bleeding.

“Councilor,” Yvandri said.

“You,” he returned.

“What?” Yvandri tilted her head. “Did you have some other savior in mind?”

“I had no expected no saviors, actually,” Morvayn said with a grim chuckle. “My second-in-command...”

“I know, Councilor,” Yvandri said. “I know about Adril and the False Tribune.” Q'ishmet and Talvas walked up behind her. “Where is he?” she asked.

“He was headed for the Temple when he left,” Councilor Morvayn said. “He intends to make Elder Othreloth convert.”

“We'll take care of it,” Yvandri said. She turned to leave.

“You must spare him, outlander!” Councilor Morvayn called after her. “If he is to die, he will die by the law.”

Yvandri kept walking. “No promises.”

She along with Q'ishmet and Talvas exited the manor and soon advanced on the Ancestral Temple. The spices Yvandri smelled when she first found this place were gone. Instead there was only ash and the reek of burned flesh. A pair of Tribunalists guarded the sacred ground as it plumed with flame and smoke.

“Vivec awaits our generations, apostates,” the one of the cultists claimed.“Witness truth!”

They both summoned ice atronachs and Yvandri threw her hands out to blast the elementals with fire magic. Q'ishmet and Talvas followed suit and a shattering barrage of magic energy destroyed both the conjured beings and the dark mages that summoned them. Afterward, they walked towards their destination. They were hardly inside the burning temple before they heard voices.

“What's it going to be Elder?” one of the voices said. “Accept the True Tribune or I'll cut out the profane tongue with which you preach.”

“It is you who should accept truth, Sir Arano,” the other voice replied. “The Dark Matrons anticipate no longer. They are now the Reclaimations and we, their Reclaimers.”

Yvandri and Talvas looked around the various meditation rooms in the temple but only saw more dead bodies. The source of the voices was nowhere to be found.

“Shut up!” The first voice again, Adril Arano. “Admit your belief is a falsehood!”

Q'ishmet called to the others. “Below us,” he said, detecting the location of voices with his keener senses.

Yvandri nodded and walked down the stairs leading to the lower level of the temple. Lightning sparked in one hand and frost dripped from the other as she descended. Talvas and Q'ishmet covered her either flank in the darkness of the underground, scattered patches of fire serving as their only light.

“Your belief is the falsehood,” Elder Othreloth said. “The lengths you must go to convince others is evidence of this.”

Adril laughed. “You have made your choice, then,” he said. “I will not allow you to spread these lies any further.”

Yvandri finally came to the center of the underground level of the temple and stopped to survey the scene. The shrines to the three Dark Matrons stood ahead of her and on either side. She and her allies were also surrounded by a dozen Tribunalists. She saw Adril Arano look up from the Elder, who kneeled in front of the Councilor's aid. The official held a dagger pressed against Elder Othreloth's mouth.

“It's over,” Yvandri said.

The cultists all turned to look at her, along with Adril himself who threw the Elder to the ground. He faced Yvandri then and raised his arms as if basking in a victory he had not yet won.

“So it has come to this? Truth versus deceit, light against darkness, progress versus antiquity,” Adril asked, surely thinking himself on the side of truth and light. “Face us then, Reclaimers,” he said. “Watch your gods forsake you in the hour of decision!”

In the next instant the hollowed grounds erupted into a storm of magic. Frost, fire, and lightning all streaked through the crowded dungeon that was the underground of the Ancestral Temple. The cultists summoned atronachs to aid in their quest against the Reclaimer faith.

Meanwhile, Yvandri used illusions to turn the Tribunalists against each other and Q'ishmet bolstered himself and the others with magic armor and enhanced vitality. This frenzy of magic lasted for a few minutes until most of the combatants were either dead or too strained to continue casting. Most of the Tribunalists were dead while Talvas and Yvandri were wounded badly.

Yvandri pressed a healing spell into her side while she stood staring down the last three cultists. Q'ishmet kneeled beside Talvas and applied restorative magic. Once Yvandri had recovered some of her health, she drew her pair of enchanted daggers, the elven knife lit by the moon, the ebony blade hungry for blood. She charged the remaining cultists and dodged their last few spell before stabbing them, slashing their throats, and spelling their gruesome demise. Pale fire and a deep red glow coursed over their bodies as they died.

“No, no!” Adril cried out. “We are truth, we are victory, we are eternal!”

Yvandri pointed her ebony dagger at the Second Councilor. “You are alone, and you have lost.”

“Wrong again, outlander,” Adril reached into his chest pocket and fished out a scroll. “I came prepared!”

Yvandri lunged to strike, slashing the official but unable to stop him from crushing the paper in his hand. The parchment dissolved into a wisp of smoke and a deafening portal from Oblivion tore open mere inches away from Yvandri. The councilor's aid fell and gripped the gash in his upper arm as a shape walked out of the rippling sphere of magic. Yvandri took a step backward as a Dremora Lord advanced on her and pulled the fiery deadric greatsword off its back.

“I will feast on your heart!”

The daedra swung its weapon and Yvandri ducked to avoid being beheaded. She backpedaled and crossed her daggers in front of her when the lord attacked a second time. A clang split the air when they clashed and the enchantments on each weapon bled away from the contact. Yvandri staggered back after the powerful fire magic spilled into her body. On the other hand, the demora lord seemed to shrug off both the moonfire and the blood draining effects. It advanced on her once more and she raised a greater ward this time to defend herself.

The infernal greatsword collided with her ethereal shield. The blazing power of the daedric weapon burned away at Yvandri's defensive aura until she could no longer maintain it. The ward shattered into glittering shards of aether and Yvandri reeled backward. She hit the floor hard and her body ached with both physical and magical fatigue. The dremora lord raised its weapon high overhead but Q'ishmet dove in front of the daedra and warded the strike. Talvas joined his side and together they were able to push the demon back slightly.

Yvandri heard the daedra roaring as she climbed to her feet. She caught sight of the demon again just in time to see it cut down her followers. One slash brought Q'ishmet to his knees and another sent Talvas collapsing to the floor. Yvandri screamed and charged ice magic in her hand as her allies burned. She launched an ice spear into the daedra, piercing it deep in the chest. The lord staggered as frost tore its body but still managed to deliver one last attack to Q'ishmet. The daedric greatsword of blazes cleaved down into the Khajiit's head, through his neck, before stopping somewhere in the rib cage.

“There was no other end!” the dremora celebrated while pulling its sword out of the mangled gore that was once a Khajiit mage. “Who will be the next to-”

Yvandri screamed and flung a second spear of ice which stabbed the daedra in the head before it was done speaking. She ran forward as the lord dropped its sword and fell. The elf flipped the ebony dagger in her hand and pounced on top of the lord before stabbing it repeatedly about the head and neck.

Red magic bled away from each strike and absorbed into Yvandri, restoring her health as she slaughtered the dreamora. It gurgled and thrashed until her blade before it finally was rendered lifeless. She glared up at the Councilor's aid who stood over her, his face taken by shock.

He raised his dagger as if to fight her himself. Yvandri's face twisted with anger and she threw her own dagger at him instead. The ritual blade landed inside the nobleman's chest and he fell backward as a portion of his life drained into Yvandri. Yvandri stood and turned to look behind her. Q'ishmet was dead, mutilated beyond recognition. Talvas had gotten up to his knees he was alive but barely. Beyond them, a dozen Tribunalists lie dead. This was the cost of her actions. Yvandri wiped tears from her face and walked over to Talvas.

“Follower, I- I...”

Yvandri kneeled next to him. “Yvandri,” she said while she summoned healing light. “My name is Yvandri.”

“Yvandri...” Talvas muttered. “Your friend, I couldn't-”

Yvandri pressed the light against Talvas' wounds. “He walks the veil now,” she said. “I will see him again.” After a moment of healing Talvas she moved away to look at him. “Can you stand?”

“I will try,” Talvas said. He sucked in a pained breath as he moved to stand and Yvandri supported him until he was upright. The elves exchanged a long glance within the closeness. Talvas was the first to look away. “What happens now?” he asked.

Yvandri closed her fists and turned to Adril Arano. “Him.”

She walked over the shrine where he had collapsed. The councilor's aid looked up at her as she approached. Yvandri kneeled to pull the dagger out of his chest and he groaned as the blade left his body.

He was gasping between breaths and blood poured down his shirt as he labored to speak. “The Tribune is my deliverance, outlander,” Adril said. “Those faithful will applaud my actions.”

Yvandri brought the ritual blade to his neck. “What says you will live to tell your cowardly tale?”

“You can't kill me; you have no authority here,” Adril said, grinning. “If you do, you will be a sworn enemy of House Redoran for the rest of your miserable life.”

“The same will be true of you if aren't dead by then,” Yvandri said.

Adril shook his head. “No,” he rejected. “I am powerful, I am connected. They would never-”

Yvandri punched the councilor's aid. The crack of her fist ended his self-righteous blathering. She stood and turned to Talvas. “Take him outside,” she said.

“I'm a mage, not a pack mule, you know,” Talvas said. A glare was Yvandri's only response.

Talvas dragged Adril out of the temple as Yvandri walked over to the Elder. He stood and looked at her with his tired red eyes.

“Reclaimer, you return...” he said, searching her. “What ever became of the Black Book?”

“The Black Book has been destroyed, Elder,” Yvandri informed.

Elder Othreloth sighed. “So that was their decision? Perhaps that is for the best,” he said. “Devotion can be flawed just as it can be joyous.”

Yvandri put a hand on her hip. “Tonight has certainly proven that.”

“Indeed,” the Elder said. “Meeting the Dark Matrons is a scarce privilege that few ever know. Count yourself fortunate.”

“I do, Elder,” Yvandri said. “Blessings upon you,” she said.

Yvandri turned and walked over the masses of dead cultists that littered the temple. “And you,” she heard as she left.

Once outside she picked up the Second Councilor and dragged him through the burning ash of Raven Rock. Talvas followed behind and watched for any Tribunalists that might remain. Alas, there came no further opposition. There was only the roar of fire as the city fell.

Yvandri kicked open the door to Morvayn Manor upon her return. She glowered at the Councilor as she slung his second to kneel before him. “Your traitorous heretic, Councilor,” Yvandri offered. “Spare no degree of judgment.”

Councilor Morvayn walked up to them and looked at Adril for a long while before turning to Yvandri. “To overcome those who would take our my town... I am indebted to you,” he said. “When the guard return to this catastrophe, we may rebuild. In the meantime, it should indeed be you to bring this filth to an end.” He nodded.

“I name you an Adviser of House Redoran for this purpose.”

Yvandri shook her head. “I've restrained myself for this long,” she said, scowling. “You said before that you respect the Reclamation faith,” she recounted. “If this is true, take my ritual blade in the name of the Dark Matrons.” Yvandri took out the enchanted dagger and threw it to Councilor Morvayn.

She turned to walked out of the crumbling manor and Talvas scurried out of her path.

“Kill him yourself.”


	8. A Moon Among Stars

Yvandri and Talvas returned outside, leaving the manor and the two officials who governed it. What would become of them? What would become of the flaming ruin of Raven Rock? Ultimately Yvandri had applied herself to this situation far more than she had expected to. What started as a destined quest for Azura was then expanded and entangled in religious and political schisms. Was that part of Azura's plan as well? To have Yvandri reconnect with her people and fight for the way of ancestry and righteousness? There was no way of telling.

Yvandri turned to Talvas. “I assume you're going back to Tel Mithryn now?”

“Yes, I should return,” he said. “I'm sure Master Neloth is waiting for my help with restoring the colony.”

“Good,” Yvandri said. “I'm going with you.”

Talvas raised a brow. “A pleasant surprise,” he said. “May I ask why?”

“There's the enchantment I was working on for Neloth,” Yvandri began. She brought a hand to Talvas's jaw. “...and then there's you...”

“Oh yes,” Talvas cleared his throat, flustered. “Neloth will be very glad to see what you've found.”

“I'm sure,” Yvandri said, tracing Talvas's lower lip with her thumb. “Shall we?”

Talvas only nodded in reply. Together they traveled to Tel Mithryn and left Raven Rock to burn.

~ ~ ~

The dark afternoon had become pure night by the time Yvandri and Talvas arrived to Tel Mithryn. The black cover of the sky masked the burned scars on the mushroom towers. However, there was no denying the fungal structures seemed less alive than before. Smoke and ash still lingered in the air around the colony as Yvandri approached.

Talvas entered the main tower first and Yvandri followed soon after. They floated up to Neloth's magical workspace to find the wizard-lord working with some black soulgems.

“Master?” Talvas asked, a look of worry on his face.

“Oh don't be alarmed, Talvas,” the Telvanni mage said. “If I'm going to kill cultists in my front yard, I may as well harvest their souls.”

“Harvest their souls,” Talvas repeated. “Of course.”

Talvas looked at Yvandri and she shrugged. She may have done the same to the Tribunalists she fought, given the presence of mind.

Talvas sighed. “I'm going to bed,” he said. “It's been a long day.”

Yvandri watched him walk away before she walked over to Master Neloth. “I have the Silent Moon enchantment,” she said while pulling out the moonlit elven dagger. “Azura blessed me with its knowledge.”

Neloth set the handful of black soulgems on the shelf. “How convenient,” he said as he took the dagger. “Do you ever study and train, or are all of your skills simply gifts from those greater?”

Yvandri's face flattened. “I have fought, Neloth,” she said. “More than you know.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Perhaps I shouldn't be so cynical. After all, you have proven useful in your own, peculiar way,” Neloth admitted. “People call _me_ eccentric.”

Yvandri folded her arms. “I would say the term fits.”

Neloth scoffed. “At any rate, in light of your assistance to me, I dub you Sorcerer. A low ranking within House Telvanni but rank nonetheless.”

“I'm honored, Master Neloth,” Yvandri said.

“Finally, some respect,” Neloth joked. He turned to his closet. “Also, do take this and change so you don't look, and smell, like a wild animal,” he said while pulling out a black master robe of destruction from the rack. “What happened to the one I gave you?”

“It was ripped to shreds by Hermaeus Mora,” Yvandri said before she took the new robe.

Neloth rolled his eyes as if to say 'of course'.

Yvandri smirked. “I don't suppose you would object to me staying here for the night?” she asked. “After fighting in Raven Rock I'm not much for traveling again.”

Neloth only shrugged in response.

Yvandri sighed and walked to the room where Talvas had laid down. She quite liked the thick fur coat of the Skaal, but she did agree it wasn't quite flattering or suitable to her particular talents. Talvas looked at Yvandri as she entered his room and closed the door, a puzzle on his face. He quickly turned away when Yvandri pulled the coat off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“What's the matter, Talvas?” she mused, grinning. “Never seen a naked woman before?”

“No, I-” Talvas began. “Well, yes, but not-”

Yvandri smiled and began to cleanse her bare skin with oils she collected from the temple. “Look if you would like,” she encouraged. “It would hardly be a violation compared to my other experiences.”

With that, Talvas dared to witness Yvandri in her full glory. A fringe of her fine black hair hung over her dark red eyes and spilled onto her shoulders. Her gray skin glistened with the aromatic oils that she rubbed all over her body. Yvandri slid her hands over her chest, cupping her breasts before she released. Her tits bounced freely and Talvas' eyes fixed on her black nipples before traveling to her toned arms and abdomen. Scars marred her figure in some places, some recent and some rather old, evidences of the fighting she had done.

The male elf was admiring Yvandri's hips and the curve of her legs when finished drying herself and began to put on the new robe she was given. She donned the outfit as Talvas watched and became increasingly bothered.

“You're beautiful,” he croaked.

“Thank you,” Yvandri said with a smile. “You're not so bad yourself.”

With that, Yvandri lowered herself onto the extra bed in Talvas' room. She closed her eyes and tried to escape into sleep.

~ ~ ~

“Foreseer...”

Yvandri's mind stirred with dreams as someone called to her through the void.

“Hear me, Foreseer,...”

Without question, this was Azura, Mother of Roses. Yvandri saw a thread of Twilight stretch away from her. The silvery line seemed to only lengthen as Yvandri chased after it, eager to see where it led. She went on until she saw a brilliant star at the end of the thread, glowing starkly against the darkness. Yvandri soon reached the star and, when she did, her dream was flooded with a wave of blue and silver as the Palace of Roses took shape. Azura stood before her and she stood before Azura. The Weaver of Fortunes stood oddly still, exuding peace and serenity. White petals fluttered through the glaring light and the haunting dark of Moonshadow.

“You have succeeded, as I said you would,” Azura said. “It is done... yet you retain great potential.”

“I accept whatever further quests you ask of me,” Yvandri said.

“Quests may await you, Foreseer,” Azura said. “For now, there is only one task.”

“Anything.”

Azura smiled. “Your body has been used by your enemies during your service of me,” Azura said, knowing the trials Yvandri had endured. “You are to seek personal indulgence. Pursue pleasure that is your own.”

After assigning Yvandri a rather unique task, Azura waved her hand outward. The gesture was followed by a storm of magic rose petals that flew towards Yvandri, carrying with them an arousing and erotic energy.

Azura's suggestion was none-too-subtle. In fact, the sexual hint she bestowed unto Yvandri was enough to wake the elf from her sleep.

Yvandri opened her eyes to the dark of midnight. Her breathing was short and her heart was excited. She felt the fabric over her breasts, teasing herself until she heard Talvas call to her. She must have woken him up.

“Yvandri?”

Yvandri sat up and looked at him. “Talvas...” she said as she stood from the bed. “Come with me.”

Talvas rubbed his eyes. “What is it?” he asked.

Yvandri turned to leave the room. “Just come,” she said.

~ ~ ~

Yvandri led Talvas out of the tower. A few minutes later they were on the shore not too far from Tel Mithryn. Masser and Secunda were both in full over the ocean, moonlight casting reflections on the water for as far as the eye could see. Talvas looked at Yvandri waiting for her to explain herself.

“I had a dream,” Yvandri revealed. “Azura spoke to me.”

“What did she say?”

“Azura has suggested that I... indulge myself,” Yvandri said. She looked at Talvas. “With you. In the dark of this night.”

Talvas swallowed. “I... I don't what to say,” he stumbled. “Why- why would you...?

Yvandri turned towards Talvas and took a step closer to him. “I yearn for ecstasy, for pleasure born of my own assertion,” she explained.

Talvas started to say something but Yvandri but a finger on his lips.

“Shh, say nothing,” Yvandri said. She moved her hand down to Talvas' chest and charged an illusion spell. “I shall act, and you shall be acted upon.” When she released the spell Talvas was thoroughly charmed, willing to do whatever Yvandri wished. Afterward she reached into his pants and pulled out his dick, which was already hard. “It is destined...” she said while she lowered to her knees in front of Talvas.

Yvandri parted her lips and stuck out her tongue. She licked the tip of Talvas' dick and his head bobbed on her tongue as she did. Yvandri then leaned forward and looked up at Talvas as she took his erection into her mouth. Talvas shuddered from the sensation of Yvandri enveloping his cock with her wet lips.

Saliva dripped down his shaft as Yvandri sucked on him. Wet slurping and popping sounds emanated from her mouth and Talvas groaned. His dick stiffened on her tongue and Yvandri cupped a hand under his balls as he started to cum. The throbbing pulse of his cock filled Yvandri's mouth with semen.

She eagerly wrapped her lips around him and continued to suck, milking more cum out of Talvas until he was done ejaculating and he could barely stand. Yvandri opened her mouth and looked up at Talvas as she pulled open the front of her robe. She let cum and spit spill from her lips down onto her chest, her tongue dripping with milky white seed.

Talvas just stood there in his seduced stupor as Yvandri got to her feet and the moonlit darkness beamed around them. Yvandri reached down and massaged Talvas' dick as they looked into each other, sharing the moment. With that same hand she charged a restoration spell and cast it into Talvas' crotch. A surge of stamina filled Talvas and his cock sprung with renewed vigor.

Without a word Yvandri undressed Talvas and directed him to lie on his back in the wild grass. Yvandri then stripped out of her robe and threw it on the ground, touching her erect nipples and her wet pussy as she did. Once both she and her partner were naked in the night, she climbed on top of Talvas and lowered into a cowgirl position. She put both hands on Talvas' chest and wiggled her butt so that her pussy rubbed up against his cock.

She squirmed atop her partner so that his erection prodded between her legs and between her butt cheeks as well. Yvandri bit her lip and moaned, teasing herself with the dick. Talvas was essentially a sex toy at this point, she could do whatever she wanted with him. After about a minute she was shivering with anticipation and her pussy ached to be filled.

In pursuit of the indulgence Azura suggested she achieve, Yvandri reached between herself and Talvas, took his dick in her hand, and placed it right on her slit. She then sunk herself onto his cock and cried out as it entered her for the first time. She sat there for a long few seconds, soaking in the feeling, reveling in what it felt like to initiate and be fully in control in a sexual sense. Afterward, she started to ride Talvas.

Slowly at first, her carnal desire eventually grew into a raging hunger. She gasped and moaned in the cool night air, rolling herself onto the hard dick in her pussy. Yvandri gyrated up and down on Talvas' erection and her breasts bounced freely as they fucked outside in the wide open darkness. The female elf was sweating and trembling all over and her inner thighs became slick with her moisture.

The moonlight seemed to intensify around Yvandri as she consummated with Talvas, beaming onto her most natural form, uninhibited by clothing. The pale light caught on her naked skin and bare ass and Yvandri knew that this was the Twilight that guided her. It rained around her like a spotlight, a column of luminous energy that surrounded her and penetrated her. This is where she needed to be in this moment, here on top of Talvas as his cock began to twitch and pulse inside of her.

Yvandri's pussy was shot full of cum and there was nowhere else she wanted to be. Her core muscles drew taught as Talvas came inside of her and her breath ran ragged as her own climax approached. Yvandri shut her eyes and continued grinding atop Talvas, holding onto his chest with all her might.

Finally she threw her head back and screamed at the night sky as the truest and most powerful of orgasms tore through her body and beyond. The shadowy brilliance of this fateful night carried the zenith of her arousal into her very soul, where it would linger for some time.

Yvandri stared wide-eyed at the blinding pillar of moonlight that poured onto her. She opened her arms to the heavens and basked in Azura's gift. The moons and stars were witness to her claim of the power the rightfully belonged to her and her alone.

Then, the light began to fade. The illuminated darkness soon became ordinary night and the moons ceased to beam with silent truth. Yvandri looked down at Talvas, who seemed to have fainted from the either Azura's display of approval or simply from the sex, if not both. She then looked at herself, skin shimmering with sweat, face, breasts, and legs sticky with cum. Yet, in the quite that followed her copulation with destiny, she could not be more pleased. Yvandri sighed then stood up from being joined with Talvas. Milky cum leaked out of her pussy as she walked over to pick up her clothes.

Yvandri looked out at the glittering ocean as she dressed herself and came down from her sexual high.

She stood that way for a while, watching the waves roll in, feeling the breeze drift by...

Then, she heard something, like a whisper...

Soon after, a silvery-blue thread of Twilight appeared, leading her somewhere new...


End file.
